The Music and the Mirror
by glimmergleam
Summary: Melanie Segal has the three best friends in the world, a hot new boyfriend, and a loser of a brother who always makes her look good by comparison. She can execute a flawless triple pirouette and body check a woman twice her size on the derby track. So why does it feel like something's wrong? Even in Paradise, coming out is hard to do. [12 Chapters planned]
1. Prologue

**AU after Episode 17, "It's Not A Mint". Please disregard the (heart-wrenching) season finale when reading.**

**This story will - hopefully - update on Mondays, like the show.**

**Bunheads is Amy Sherman-Palladino's world, and I am incredibly grateful and gleeful to be playing in it.**

_Prologue_

It started with the D+.

Well, OK, that wasn't entirely true, because everything had been so crazy lately; maybe it would be better to say it started with 6 hours per week of ballet rehearsal for the May recital, and 2 hours a week of remedial driver's ed, and 3 hours a week of derby practice, not to mention Tuesday trivia at the Oyster Bar and mandatory Friday nights at Sasha's new place and burgers with Dez and the surprisingly thorough John Huston retrospective that TCM had been running at 2 AM lately …and basically, something had to give.

And, like, it wasn't really that big a deal not to know who killed Macbeth, right? The Segal family DVD copy of the Orson Welles version was seriously scratched, so she hadn't had time to finish it. Plus, before Michelle had left town for six months on the Twyla Tharp tour, she had sworn that nobody in the business even mentioned the play because it was cursed. Talking about cursed things made them worse, therefore nobody should talk about it, therefore little details didn't matter. But Mr. Brandt in 3rd period English Lit hadn't seen it that way.

Mel's parents hadn't, either. They were so angry, in fact, that she would have been in risk of a permanent grounding if Charlie hadn't come home drunk on a Wednesday night in the middle of the argument and interrupted everything by quietly vomiting all over the kitchen floor. (Mel paid him back for the distraction later by doing his disgusting laundry.) But because this was the third time in a month Charlie had vomited somewhere and it was tax season (the Segals were both accountants in the same firm in a neighboring town), they had to drop the grades thing for a few days. "You'd better decide what you're giving up, young lady," her mother had warned. "Junior year is the most important for your college applications. Cal and UCLA don't just hand out dance scholarships, especially not to girls with 1.9 GPAs."

And Mel had decided, thank you very much. She had been perfectly willing to give up driver's ed for a while in exchange for some trig tutoring. After all, Sasha had a car and Dez had a car, and even though their parents had just taken Charlie's license away, he would find a way to charm them pretty soon. And almost everything – well, a lot of things – in Paradise were walking distance. (Besides, the thought of telling Madame Fanny that she needed to miss some rehearsals for academics was scarier than Norman Bates at midnight, during a thunderstorm.)

Anyway, she and Ginny had worked out a perfectly reasonable list of debate points for the Sunday evening Family Meeting that her parents would find persuasive. Boo had offered to help her out with the chem labs, and even Carl had lent her some flashcards for French. It was all going to be fine.

And then on Saturday afternoon, Stella Sabotage rammed into T. S. Helliot during practice and during the ensuing pile-up, Mel tripped over Val Capone and dislocated her right shoulder.

So that was it for roller derby. She knew as soon as Dez called her parents from the E.R that there was no going back. The world didn't end, but it definitely flattened a little.


	2. Ch 1: cashing in my bad luck

**Deborah is my name for Matisse's friend, the one who wants to marry and keep house for Jordan.**

**Bunheads's California geography makes basically zero sense, so I have invented the city of Las Virtudes because why not. **

Chapter 1: cashing in my bad luck

_Monday afternoon, mid-March_.

"Let's take that last combination again, please. Good extension, Boo. Fix those shoulders, Margaret. Breathe, Rae-Rae…"

Melanie shifted, bored, in the uncomfortable folding chair and felt her shoulder twinge in its sling. Madame Fanny had reluctantly accepted that a freak lawnmowing accident – Mel wouldn't dare confess the roller derby – would necessarily prevent one of her pupils from physically rehearsing for a week or so, but she absolutely forbade Mel from missing class. Her dad had suggested she sneak some trig study sheets into her dance bag, but Mel knew better. Madame Fanny's eagle eye had sharpened ever since Michelle had gone on tour. (That was a touchy subject in Paradise.) So instead she was sitting next to the piano and trying to memorize the routines along with the rest of Co-Ed Advanced Ballet [Ages 10-18].

It was unseasonably hot for March, even by California standards. Somehow all of her clothes were itching at once. Maybe she was just subconsciously weirded out by wearing jeans in the studio when everyone else was in leotard and tights? Mel couldn't focus on Madame Fanny or the choreography. Actually, lately, she couldn't focus on anything. What was_ going on_? Ballet was mostly interesting, her friends were great as ever, and even Charlie hadn't been such a douche the last few days. He'd probably rebounded from Stacia with some new airhead. Dating Dez was…well, not hearts and rainbows and the goop Boo and Carl seemed to be living in, but it was fine. Fun. Easy. Nice.

Still, everything was so foggy and off. School facts slid out of her brain faster than usual. Dad was really pushing for early admission to UCLA next fall, like Charlie had gotten, but that was a complete joke. It was never gonna happen, even with a serious GPA overhaul. Junior year was hard and boring and stressful and…ugh. Mel felt trapped inside all time, trapped by school rules and Fanny rules and exams and reports and rubrics and curfews and expectations and college plans and permit tests and did she mention rules? Basically, she was freaking choking, OK?

Derby had been _so great_. Sure the sport had rules, but it was basically roller hockey without the puck: the aim was theoretically to score points but actually it was to score hits. Like, physical hits. Body slams were the big money. That was what the crowd wanted, to watch players slam each other into the ground . And the noise they made when you did! Ballet fans were politely rigid, like the dancing itself. Uptight and kind of snobbish. Derby fans roared and cheered and made you feel like a queen for the night. Derby was messy and chaotic _on purpose_. No one yelled when you fell down, or failed. The other girls might talk shit for a few minutes, but if you snarked back at them and got on the track again immediately, everyone forgot about it. And if there was one thing Mel was 100% good at, it was snark. Except that even there she'd been off her game lately. Even sarcasm was hard to muster. Yeah, losing derby to textbooks blew rat chunks. It was miserable. Luckily, the team hadn't taken it too badly, though. Ginger "Rage"rs, the captain, had said she understood about parents and grades and to maybe check them out again in a few months, when life got less crazy. Riiiiight. When was her life ever not crazy?

"Cozette and Jordan to the center for your _pas de deux_, please. This will be the last run-through of the day, class."

Madam Fanny gestured to the center of the floor and the two dancers took their places to rehearse their solos for the May performance of _Coppélia_. Talk about the opposite of derby. Every time Jordan danced, a ballet angel got its wings and he knew it; but Cozette, like, didn't have a snob bone in her whole body. Which was even crazier considering how perfect she was. She and her weirdly aloof brother had only lived in Paradise for eight months, but they had basically charmed the whole town. And any town that named the governing council TAFTPOKEYRIP was not easily impressed by outsiders. They knew everyone, everywhere. Freakin' _Mitch Alvarado_ had even invited Cozette to the Winter Formal, but she and Frankie were skiing in Vail that weekend. She was taking post-calculus as a junior, her tenor sax solo reportedly had her in the running for All-State Jazz Band finals, and of course she was an amazing dancer. And ridiculously pretty.

Jordan and Cozette finished with a final lift as the music flourished. Matisse and Deborah – forever Team Jordan – started applauding. Madame Fanny allowed it for 30 seconds before she called everyone back to the barre for the cool-down. Mel watched jealously as Cozette floated into place behind Sasha. She was barely sweating. Mel stunk like a middle school locker room after each class, but on Cozette it just looked like a rosy glow. Which went really well with her dark hair. Even pulled back in a bun, you couldn't help noticing that hair. Everyone stared at Cozette. How could anyone help it? How could she help it? Cozette was intoxicating.

This time it was Mel's stomach that twisted. No injury excuse here. She'd been watching Cozette solo with Jordan for months (Sasha was pretending not to care) without obsessing. Why did it suddenly feel weird? _What was going on?_ Mel felt like wailing. That tiny voice, the one that only ever showed up on sleepless nights, opened its mouth and Mel panicked. _Shut up!_ she thought. _No– I'm not going there. Not thinking that – _

"Mel? Melanie!" Mel opened her eyes. Ginny was standing in front of her, dressed in street clothes. The studio was almost empty. "It's time to go! What's wrong?"

"Uh, nothing. Fine. I'm fine." She stood up quickly.

"You need a ride? My mom's on her way; she just finished closing on the Addison place, you know, by the elementary school; the one with the diseased maple on the front lawn and the asbestos in the basement –"

"No, Dez is picking me up," Mel said. She was fine. Nothing was wrong. There was nothing weird about thinking a classmate was good at dancing. Everyone thought that about Cozette, even Sasha. And lots of girls admired other girls for their looks. It was the whole point of magazines like _Seventeen_ and _Vogue_.That and selling lipstick and eating disorders.

They walked outside together, Mel trying to balance her too-full dance bag on her left shoulder. It really was time to take out some of those worn-out pointe shoes. Ginny was still going on about her mom's real estate deal. Well, it was good Ms. Thompson was working hard again. It meant she'd recovered from the Faye Mendelsohn-Thompson honeymoon and subsequent ultrasound. Paradise Beer, Wine & Spirits had long ago started reserving cases of white wine just for Ginny's mom.

Dez was waiting in the parking lot by his beat-up Chevy. When he saw the girls coming, he rushed over and took Mel's bag. "Class OK?"

"Yeah. It was good."

"Be better when you can dance again, huh?"

"Yeah." Dez was kind. He cared. He was driving her home. He was good-looking, in a puppy dog sort of way. A lot of girls would kill for him (said Charlie, after the wildfire). How come she didn't feel more excited about being with him?

They were just getting into the car when Ginny ran up after them. "My mom's stuck with the Addisons! The new owners are threatening to back out last minute; she could be there for hours! Dez, could you maybe drop me off on your way? Please? I'm only four blocks from Mel's house if you take Simpson –"

"No problem. Are you and me still on for burgers tonight, Mel?"

"Oh, I forgot." Mel felt a headache forming. All she wanted to do was sleep, really. Put this sucky day behind her. "Can we do it on Thursday, maybe? It's just, I have to pass this US history exam. I'm almost flunking the unit."

Dez started the ignition. "Sure. Let me know if you need notes or anything. I had Linehan last year."

"Thanks. Yeah, I will."

They drove home and Mel sent a thank you to the real estate gods for making Ms. Thompson late. If Ginny hadn't spent the whole ride talking about Frankie – "Is he on the Ultimate Frisbee team too, Dez? I bet he'd be really good at it, he knows all about discus, he spent last summer in Athens" – it would have been awkwardly silent the whole ride home.

That night, Mel dreamt of sunlight and Stravinsky, of skinned knees and silky raven hair. Someone kept laughing softly in her ear, but each time she turned around to look, she couldn't see anyone there. In the morning she didn't remember any of it, but a lingering weirdness haunted her through the hallways.

_Friday evening._

"Ginny, these seats are totally covered in dog hair. Did your stepmom rub them all over her car on purpose or what?" Mel lifted one 4-inch-long strand off of the headrest of the silver Volkswagen Beetle.

"I know, I'm sorry. Here, I brought a lint roller. I was afraid this would happen." Ginny opened her glittering oversized clutch and handed it over. "Faye refuses to put them in kennels for short trips, and she took them to doggie yoga earlier today. Usually she gets my dad to clean up afterwards, but I guess he didn't have time today." She threw a disturbingly large bundle of fur into the backseat. "There, I think that's basically all of it. C'mon, get in. The club opens in an hour!"

Mel laughed. "Good thing Las Virtudes is only 30 minutes away. Although, at the speed you drive…"

"Oh shut up, Danica Patrick. You can talk when you've managed to pass the written permit test." Ginny shifted into gear and the car inched out of the driveway. "Are Boo and Carl meeting us there?"

"No, Boo texted a while ago. Carl's family is doing Sabbath dinner and she's invited."

"So it's just us, then. And Frankie and Cozette."

"And, like, the hundred other people coming to hear them DJ," Mel pointed out, pretending Cozette's name hadn't made her heart skip. Cozette had handed her the invitation (a black postcard listing only date, time, and location) after ballet class yesterday. "Sorry to hear about derby. If you're free on Friday, you should come by Electrolyte for our gig. It's an all-ages night and some of the team might be there too." She'd winked as she said it, and Mel had been too tongue-tied to say thanks.

It would have been awkward trying to justify skipping the weekly sleep-over at Sasha's, but Sasha had mysteriously cancelled on them at the last minute. This could have meant that Roman's basketball team had failed to make championships for the third year running and he was suddenly free, but actually probably meant that her dad was back in town for the monthly check-in. So that had cleared up the night, and then it turned out that Frankie had invited Ginny too – well, he 'd slipped the postcard in with her sketchbook at the end of their last drawing lesson – and Mel wouldn't look like a loser for showing up alone. There were no clubs in Paradise, all-ages or R-rated, and she wasn't sure what the scene would be like.

"Did Frankie say anything about what kind of music they're playing?" she asked.

"Well, I Facebooked him this afternoon to ask, but he just responded with a Confucius quote about surprise bringing the purest pleasure." Ginny wrinked her nose. 'At least, I think it was Confucius."

Las Virtudes was roughly three times the size of Paradise and about fifty times more cultured. They passed two Urban Outfitters and three liquor stores just looking for street parking! Electrolyte was a long, low building with almost no windows. It kind of looked like a converted bowling alley. There was no big flashing sign out front, just a carefully graffittied poster next to the main entrance. There were ten minutes before the door opened, and the line to enter was already wrapped around the block.

Mel and Ginny headed slowly to the back of the line. It had been a mistake to borrow Sasha's black heels; she felt probably a thousand feet tall. And not like Karlie Kloss, either. More like a travelling sideshow act. And her hair was full of flyaways tonight and her mascara was threatening to clump, and –

"Yo, Cleo! Cleo! Melanie!" Mel turned around. In the middle of the line stood Abigail Evans, aka T.S. Helliot. She was only 5'1'', but on the track her sharp elbows struck fear (and bruises) into the hearts of roller derby players everywhere. Abby was 19, a Las Virtudes Community College forestry student, and impossibly cool. She was with Nina Ramirez (Lady Shatterly) and a tall black girl Mel didn't know. "Come wait with us, Cleosmacktra!" Abby called. Mel and Ginny joined them. The guy with a faux-hawk standing behind them grumbled, but Abby turned around and glared him into silence. Awesome.

"Abby, this is my best friend Ginny. Ginny, this is Abby, Nina, and, um – "

"I'm Sam," said Sam in a beautifully deep voice.

"Wow, I love your earrings!" Ginny said, staring up at her. Mel thought they were pretty weird but also kind of cool. Two intricate silver roses curled around Sam's earlobes. They matched the cuff on her left arm, which looked like thorny vines coiled around a dagger.

"Thanks, I made them myself last year."

"Sam has a whole Etsy shop of fantasy-themed jewelry. You guys should check it out," Abby said, slipping her hand into Sam's and squeezing.

"Yeah, maybe we could get Boo something for her birthday next month." Mel relaxed. This wouldn't be so weird if the derby girls were coming too.

"You sure you're cool to dance, Cleo?" Nina asked. "We heard about your shoulder. And that sucks about quitting derby."

"Thanks, I'll be OK. I got to take the sling off yesterday and the swelling's gone down. I just have to be careful with it."

"No derby but ballet's cool, huh?" Abby grinned. "Guess you can take the ballerina off the stage…"

"Oh, Mel's been doing ballet forever!" Ginny said. "We all started class together in nursery school."

"Not much else to do in Paradise, I guess? I can't think of any hobby I've been doing since nursery school." The doors opened, and the girls were swept inside.

Mel wasn't sure Confucius was right about the best pleasure being surprise, but not knowing what music was coming next definitely kept things interesting. Cozette and Frankie stood on a low platform at the back of the dance floor, mixing together the weirdest combination of songs Melanie had ever heard. Beyonce bled into the Ramones into Prince into the Ting Tings into what sounded like Gregorian chants overlaid with… an AutoTuned Justin Bieber. And had they somehow managed to dub-step Brahms? It was crazy and what was even crazier was that the crowd not only loved it, they figured out how to move to each mash-up.

Melanie and Ginny and the other girls formed a circle in the middle of the room. It was fun; she hadn't danced without formal choreography since Genevieve's New Year's party, and as long as she kept her shoulder clear of the crush of bodies, she felt great. A couple of guys came over and Mel danced with the tallest of them for a while, a lanky dude who'd clearly been suckered in by that Brad Pitt commercial. Sam was dancing in front of them when Mel saw her eyes suddenly light up.

"Hey, 'Zette!" Sam said. Cozette had come up behind Mel and her partner, and she briefly squeezed Mel's shoulder before leaning in to hug Sam, who was beaming. "What's up, girl? You and your brother are killing it tonight."

"The right kind of crowd counts too," Cozette said, laughing. "I'm stoked you're here! Abby wasn't sure if you could make it."

"Yeah, at the last minute I got my Greyhound ticket for the weekend. That was hella expensive! Spent most of last month's profits, so you better make this night worth it, you hear?"

"Don't I know it! Better get back to the laptop, though. It's Frankie's turn to sweet-talk the fans." Cozette lifted her eyebrows in the direction of Ginny, who was barely visible between Nina and one of the other guys. "Thanks for coming, Sam. See you later, Cleo." She glided away, people parting for her like the Red Sea.

"Where did you come up from?" Mel shouted over the beginnings of Ke$ha/Billy Joel. The Chanel dude moved away for a sluttier target.

"San Francisco! That's how I know Cozette, because she lived there before she moved to your hick town. We met at modeling camp. Man, that was a seriously hot summer."

"I don't remember it being that hot," Mel said in confusion. Mostly she remembered long hours in the Oyster Bar with her grandfather for company.

"No, dummy, hot. As in a lot of action!" Sam laughed at her expression. "I'm pretty sure almost all the models hooked up with each other before school started. And 'Zette was the hottest model in town."

Something weird was happening in Mel's gut area. "Cozette's gay?" she whispered. But Sam seemed to know what she was saying, even though Ke$ha was plenty loud.

"No, she's bi. _I'm_ gay." Sam's grin looked vaguely wolfish in the neon lighting. Mel felt her cheeks turn red.

"You sure are!" Abby appeared from behind, and slung an arm around Sam's shoulders. "Don't you go stealing my girlfriend, Cleo. I looked long and hard to find one this sexy!"

"Oh – no, I wouldn't, I mean," Mel stuttered. But neither of them were paying her much attention. Sam slid both arms around Abby's waist and they started dancing. Mel looked away. Somehow it was different watching them dance with each other if they were, you know, together. Nina was grinding with some guy and she couldn't see Ginny anywhere. Mel felt a sinking, shaking sensation in her chest – oh no, it was just her cell phone, vibrating in her bra. Thank God.

Mel ducked between couples everywhere and stood next to the bathroom line. There was only one girl in front of her. She reached in and pulled out her phone to see a text from Dez.** hows the club? missing u.** What should she say? **good. kinda crowded. what r u doin?** Dez replied immediately; he must have been holding his phone waiting for her response. **call of duty blck ops w/ guys. when r u back? wanna gte 2gether?** Mel didn't answer. The girl ahead of her left the bathroom.

It was a single-person stall. The trashcan was overflowing with wet paper towels and the fluorescent light bulbs were flickering almost as much as the strobes outside. Mel rested her forehead against the mirror. At least the glass was cool. She felt hot all over. She didn't know what to think about Cozette and Sam, about Sam and Abby. About Cozette and – and whoever at the San Francisco camp. She couldn't picture it… she couldn't not picture it. Why should she care? Lots of girls were gay these days. Or bi. Well, Mel couldn't actually think of any that she knew personally. Everything was shaking inside. Something was hurting her hand – oh. It was her cell phone. Dez was still waiting for an answer.** idk, probs cant**. "IDK" was right. She didn't know anything at all.

There was a pounding on the bathroom door. "Melanie! Mel, are you in there? It's Ginny!" Melanie opened it and Ginny nearly fell in, her cheeks flushed. "There you are! You have to come, now! Frankie said, he said this next song reminded him of me! My eyes, he said! You have to come dance with me, I can't be out there looking totally pathetic, come on!" Ginny dragged her outside; Mel barely had time to tuck her phone back in her bra.

They rejoined the crush. Abby and Sam were still glued to each other. Looking at them was still weird and uncomfortable. Ginny gave a gasp as the music started; it was "Diamonds" by Rihanna. She pulled Mel and Nina and a random redhead next to them together.

_Shine bright like a diamond_

_Shine bright like a diamond_

_We're beautiful like diamonds in the sky_

Rihanna's eerie, high voice echoed and bounced off of the walls, off of the floor, off of the gleam of Sam's jewelry and Ginny's purse and Nina's shoes. Off of the platform where Cozette and Frankie stood, off of the silver car in the parking lot outside, off of the empty Paradise dance studio miles away, off of the basement where Dez and his friends were killing CGI communists and zombies, off of faraway San Francisco where anyone could do anything at summer camp. It bounced off of the whole of Electrolyte and off of Cozette's shining hair and off of Mel's heart, which was beating wildly out of sync with the music. She spun around and around, hair flying out in a cloud around her, trying to get back on balance. But the rest of the world was spinning too, spinning faster than she could breathe.


	3. Ch 2: when to hold 'em, when to fold 'em

**I'm writing faster than I expected, so the update schedule is going out the window. New chapters will be posted as soon as they're ready. **

**Quick reminder that small towns often have small-minded attitudes. I don't endorse the perspectives on LGBT+ people below, let alone the slurs.**

Chapter 2: when to hold 'em, when to fold 'em

_Saturday morning_

Time hung suspended in the air, like the smell of mothballs and Vick's Vapor Rub. Melanie could swear the clock on her grandfather's nightstand was actually running _backwards_. "It's your move, Grandpa," she said. "Your move. Blue. Hello? Grandpa?" There was no response from the elderly man snoozing in his worn blue armchair.

"Don't wake him up, idiot. Then we'd have to keep playing." Charlie was slouching next to her on the sofa, his legs slung over the arm rest. He had been texting and smirking to himself for most of the morning, ignoring the Chinese Checkers board in front of them.

"That's the whole point of coming here, snotbrain. To spend time with him."

"All he wants to do is sleep anyway. I don't know why you keep trying to play geezer games with him every week." Charlie stood up and stretched. "Whatever, I'm going to go raid the fridge."

Mel watched him louche off and sighed. It was true that Grandpa Harris hardly seemed to notice their visits any more. Chinese checkers, chess, gin rummy, poker…all the games he used to love could barely hold his interest for a few rounds, if he could manage to stay awake. Which was almost never. It made her super nostalgic for last summer, when she had been on constant grandparent babysitting duty. Grandpa had slept most of the time then too, but when he was awake he'd been fiercely competitive at stuff and full of snide remarks. Plus they'd spent most of the time at the Oyster Bar, secretly making fun of the other patrons and heckling Jeff Tobey, Assistant Manager, Future Harvard Student, and World's Biggest Geek.

But in the last few months, Grandpa had had less and less enthusiasm for leaving his house. Now she and Charlie were stuck in a shrine to dusty collectible beer steins and ancient furniture without even basic stuff, like wi-fi access. And the wheelchair lift that her parents had paid a lot of money to install over the stairs got stuck, like, 30% of the time. Yet another thing that sucked about her life.

Grandpa snored brokenly. Mel's mind wandered back to the night before. She was still kind of weirded out about the stuff Sam had said. She hadn't known Abby was gay, let alone dating anyone. Mel didn't think she'd ever met a lesbian in real life before. There were definitely none in Paradise, anyway. Of course, Abby actually lived in Las Virtudes, so. But if Cozette – squirm – was bisexual, was that the same as being gay? She definitely counted as living in Paradise, although not many people had actually been to her and Frankie's house. Being bi probably wasn't the same, though. You could just date guys and not tell anyone if you thought some chick was pretty.

Speaking of dating guys, Mel could actually think of a handful of gay dudes in their town. Well, three. There was Mr. Johansson who ran the antiques store and had a "friend" from out of town come visit a lot. Tyrone Fredericks, president of the drama club (the one who had lost the lead role to Ginny in the spring musical), was probably gay but had never said. He sure liked scarves and show tunes, though. And then there was Sasha's dad, but no one _ever_ talked about that. Not when Sasha or her mom might overhear, anyway. Probably the fact that the football team graffitied penises and the word "fag" on Jeff Tobey's locker almost every week didn't count. Everyone but Boo knew he'd had a crush on her since freshman year.

Paradise just wasn't the kind of place for that stuff. Not unless there was a lot of gossip she didn't know about. Which was possible, right? She spent so much time at ballet that she wasn't exactly high up on the rumor train. Maybe there were a ton of gay people and no one had told her.

"Yo, moron! Get in here!" Charlie was calling her from the kitchen doorway, phone to his ear and a half-eaten sandwich in his hand. "It's Dez. He's asking if you're cool with doubling with me and Stacia at Arby's tonight."

"You and Stacia are on again? After she dumped your loser ass?" Mel headed into the kitchen, where she could see the train wreck of Charlie's epic sandwich-making all over the table. It looked like he'd emptied out the entire contents of the fridge.

"She came crawling back. Clearly she missed my chiseled looks." Mel snorted. "Whatever, not the point. Are you in or not?"

"Yeah, fine." It would make a change from McDonalds anyway. And Stacia knew all the latest shit about everybody, since she spread half of it herself. Mel started assembling herself some food from Charlie's leftovers. He'd hung up and gone back to scarfing his own. There was mustard on his chin. _Super hot choice, Stacia. You picked a real Ryan Gosling here. Twice, even_. Was there some sort of hidden depth to her brother that Mel had been missing all these years?

"Hey, dumbass." No, that was the wrong way to start. "Charlie. Do you know of any gay kids at school? Or even, like, bi or whatever." She held her breath.

Charlie didn't look surprised. He didn't even look up. "Uh, I dunno. I think that Fredericks kid is a homo. That's what most of the guys think. I've never seen him hit on anyone, though. Not even in the locker rooms."

"What about girls?"

"Nah. Well, Stacia made out with Tessa Nelson at a kegger a few months ago. I guess that makes her bi." He grinned at the memory and reached out for another slice of salami.

"Oh." _Did_ that make her bi? That would make Katy Perry bi, based on the song. But Katy had married Russell Brand (for like a week). Somehow that made the thought of her kissing girls seem less, uh, weird. Maybe Mel could find a way to ask Stacia about it tonight, when the guys weren't around.

"Why'd you wanna know?"

"Um – " _Quick, think fast!_ "There were, uh, some girls at the club last night. Making out, I mean. Not from Paradise. I didn't know them."

"Sweet. Were they hot?"

"I don't know, I guess so." (Sam was pretty good-looking, right? Abby was kind of spiky.) "No one there seemed to care. It was weird." And they hadn't, and it _was_.

"Well, if they were hot it was probably hot for the guys. Whatever. I need to piss." Charlie hopped off of the counter and left the room.

"Real charming," Mel called after him. He'd left the remains of his food behind and left Mel more confused than ever. If two girls danced like Abby and Sam at a Paradise party, would the guys think it was hot? Or would they just ignore it, like everyone at Electrolyte? Or, worst of all, start writing things like "dyke" on their lockers? She didn't know how to find out without asking everyone, which would make everyone ask her why she'd asked, like Charlie. That would be awkward. Gayness wasn't part of life in Paradise.

_Saturday evening_

The Arby's was super crowded, but she had expected that. After all, when there are only three restaurants in your town (not counting the McDonalds or the Pizza Hut/Taco Bell), pretty much everybody on a date ends up at the same place. From their booth in the corner, Mel could count eight official Paradise High couples and at least one unofficial one that was going to cause some serious Facebook drama later.

Charlie was raving about some whiny indie band he liked while Stacia toyed with his wristbands, giggling. Melanie leaned her head back against the booth and realized Dez had put his arm behind her while they were ordering. He smiled and moved it around her shoulders. "I don't really care about Vampire Weekend either," he said. "It's mostly classic rock for me. Maybe some Dave Matthews Band. What are you into?"

"Oh…Bruno Mars, Jason Mraz. Carly Rae Jepsen." There hadn't been that much time for new music lately.

"She had that telephone song, right? That song was _everywhere_. And aren't you, like, a big Pink fan? I remember you had the posters in your room."

"I can't believe you know that! I had those up ages ago. They were from one of her old albums."

"What can I say? Guess I pay close attention to pretty girls." Dez grinned and Mel's insides softened a little. Dez could be really cute sometimes. She should stop freaking out so much about what girls in other towns were doing.

Their food arrived and everyone stopped talking to eat. The onion rings here were objectively much fresher than the stuff at the Oyster Bar, but somehow they weren't as good. Maybe the stale grease there added a certain flavor this stuff lacked. The burgers were great, though. Stacia told a story about Principal Weaver and one of the lunch ladies that was definitely 70% false, but still hilarious. Dez nearly snorted Coke out his nose. Charlie had only kicked her under the table twice tonight. (Fine, she had only kicked him three times.) This was pretty nice; maybe life was looking up after all.

"Is someone's phone ringing?" Stacia asked. Mel got hers out of her bag to see a text from an unknown number. _hey gurl, got ur # off of FB. thnx for coming last nite! U looked hot out there! 3 cozette_ Attached was a photo of her, Ginny, and Nina that had clearly been taken from the DJ platform. None of them were looking at the camera and the strobe lighting made weird patterns on their faces, but somehow it was a great shot.

"Wow, you look awesome, Mel. Was that the club? We could go again sometime if you wanted." Dez was peering over her shoulder.

Mel quickly put her phone away, trying not to think about the heart symbol. "Maybe after the recital. I think ballet's going to get pretty crazy soon."

"You're, like, super dedicated, Melanie," said Stacia. "You guys must spend forever in that old studio rehearsing. When do you have time to go shopping or concerts or anything?"

"It's…hard," Mel said. Understatement of the year, of course. The last concert she had been to was when a touring classical chamber group came last October and Madame Fanny had made the whole ballet school go and take notes on the recurring themes in Prokofiev's major works.

"Well, I bet it looks great for college and stuff. OK, I'm going to the bathroom. You coming, Melanie?" Stacia unwrapped herself from Charlie's spider clutches and grabbed her purse.

This was Mel's chance to catch her alone. "Yeah, hang on a sec." She got up and followed Stacia into the ladies' room.

"Ugh, I knew this eyeliner was a mistake. I hope Charlie didn't notice it smearing." Stacia leaned into the mirror and started fixing her make-up.

"Hey, Stacia…when you and Charlie were broken up," Mel began.

Stacia whirled around, mascara wand in hand. "I never hooked up with Zack Morgan, if that's what you mean. Kelsey Higgins is a lying bitch. She's just jealous."

"No, not Zack. I mean…Charlie said you made out with Tessa at some party?"

"Oh. Oh yeah. Just because Ryan and the rest of the lacrosse team dared us to. They thought we wouldn't do it."

"Was it weird? Like, was it like kissing a guy or what?" Mel looked at the floor. It needed to be mopped.

"No, it was totally different. For one thing, her boobs got in the way." Stacia laughed. "Or maybe mine did. I dunno, I'm glad we shut them up but I won't do it again. The guys were all laughing and saying shit to us afterwards. If I ever want to get some guy's attention real quick, I'll just take my shirt off. It's faster, and you don't have to worry the other chick might get the wrong idea and make a pass at you later."

Well, that was totally not helpful. "So you're not, like, into girls at all."

"One kiss doesn't make you gay! Anyway, like I said, I felt super gross. If guys want to jerk off to stuff like that, they can just watch porn." OK, literally the last thing Mel wanted to think about was what kind of porn boys watched. "You know, Melanie, I think you'd look really good with some highlights. Maybe auburn or something redder. Have you ever thought about it?"

"Not really."

"Well, if you want some, let me know. My cousin is part-owner of a salon in Las Virtudes. I could get you a discount. You should totally do it. You'd definitely stand out at prom. You're going with Dez, right?"

"I mean, we haven't really talked about it, but probably –"

"Great! And then we can, like, coordinate dress colors and stuff so we don't clash in the photos." Stacia tossed her makeup back in her purse and zipped it up.

In Stacia's world, everything was easy. You could decide to kiss a girl and do it, and then not want to do it again. You could dump a guy over nothing and then take him back three months later, no questions asked. And then boom, senior prom. Mel was both annoyed and slightly jealous. Could she learn to do that? Did she want to?

_Saturday night_

The screen door to Dez's kitchen slammed shut, and his little sister Rachel and her friends left the house, giggling. "I thought they'd never leave," he sighed. "I was gonna go bribe her to get out of here."

Mel smiled at him. "The sudden lack of bubblegum perfume is definitely a plus." She reached out and ruffled his hair. Less gel than usual, which was cool. Softer hair was more fun to run your fingers through. "I like your hair like this."

"Well, I like yours. With the waves, I mean. But you always look pretty. If it's straight or not, it doesn't matter –"

She kissed Dez on the nose to shut him up. "You're so nice. I wish my teachers were that nice."

"Oh yeah, how'd you do on that history test?"

"I definitely passed, I don't know by how much. Now I have to find a topic for the mega-essay."

"That one was a total bitch. I did mine on Operation Desert Storm, though, so at least the research was kind of fun."

"How is researching that fun? Like, at all?"

"Well, I got my Uncle Steve to show me some of his medals and gear and stuff. I could show you, if you want. I have a copy of my presentation." Dez rose halfway off of the sofa.

"No, sit down! I don't want to talk about school, forget I brought it up." Mel tugged at his shirt.

"OK. I know something else we could do…" Dez cupped her face with his hands and kissed her gently. Mel leaned back against the sofa's armrest and put her arms around Dez's shoulders. He tasted like corn chips and spearmint. This was a serious improvement over her last boyfriend (although it was kind of a stretch to call three movie dates in the 7th grade a relationship). Jason Odom never brushed his teeth – back then anyway. Dez always smelled good, too. She sighed into his neck. This was nice. This felt good, and was normal and fun.

For a few minutes Mel was completely and totally relaxed. Just happy. Calm. And then her hand brushed a particularly stiff clump of gelled hair and her traitor brain flashed her an image of Sam and Abby dancing, Abby's short, spiked hairdo gleaming under the lights. Mel choked.

Dez lifted his head, startled. "What's the matter? Did I pull something, or – is it your shoulder?"

"I'm – I'm fine. Need to catch my breath." She sat up slowly and rubbed her neck. That position hadn't been super great for her shoulder, actually. "Maybe we can just, like, spoon for a few minutes?"

"Sure." Dez tucked himself around her and Mel leaned her head against his chest. Neither of them said anything for a while.

"Hey, Dez – do all lesbians have short hair?" Oh jeez, that was a terrible way to start a conversation. But she hadn't known she was going to say it until she did.

Dez turned to look at her slowly. "I don't know. Maybe. I only know one in real life, though."

"Really? Someone in Paradise? Who?" Was there gossip even Stacia didn't know?

"No, not in Paradise. When we lived in Chicago. I'm not totally sure, but I think one of my babysitters was gay. Lisa. She watched me and Rachel after school a lot when my mom started working again. Until we moved here, in 5th grade. She was nice."

"How do you know she was gay?"

"Well, I'm not positive. But she had really short hair, like you said. She never wore dresses or stuff like that. And she was in college, but she never mentioned any boyfriends or anything. Our other babysitter, Courtney? She never stopped talking about guys, even though Rachel and I just wanted to watch Spongebob."

"Maybe Lisa just didn't have a boyfriend? Like she was too busy, or something."

"Maybe. I dunno. I still think she was. I didn't really know what gay was back then, but I knew she was different somehow. Usually you can just tell." Dez kissed her cheek. "I should see if I can find her on Facebook. Maybe she has pictures of us playing with Calvin when he was a puppy."

"If she does, I wanna see them." Mel closed her eyes. Would Dez have been able to "just tell" about Abby and Sam? Maybe he could just tell with Cozette. But finding out would mean bringing her up, which was a whole different kind of weird. Mel wished she could just tell about other people. She also wished she didn't have to think about this ever again. It was stressful and exhausting and she didn't even know why.

"You ready to try again, Mel?" Now Dez was kissing her hairline. Swift, little kisses, like soft surprises. Mel turned to face him and leaned in. Dez was warm and strong and safe. You could cling to him in a storm and survive. And right now, that was perfect.


	4. Ch 3: peripatetic, poetic and chic

**Kyle's character is a loving tribute to several real techies I have known. Stage crew: once you go black, you don't go back!**

Chapter 3: peripatetic, poetic and chic

_Wednesday afternoon_

Onstage, one of the chorus members tripped over a stool and landed on her butt, and Sari Enfield laughed so hard she got the hiccups. The after-school rehearsals for _Bells Are Ringing_ were going about as well as ever. If Mel had looked up from her seat in the middle of the high school auditorium, she could have seen the all-too-common sight of Tyrone Fredericks tearing out his hair.

"Everyone! Quiet, please! Would someone go get Sari some water? Now, can we please go back to Scene Five?" Mrs. Murkowski, the music teacher, was trying in vain to shout over the chaos.

If the ghost of Judy Holliday had appeared onstage to haunt everyone into behaving, Mel wouldn't have noticed. Now that there was no roller derby practice, her Wednesdays were wide open. Dad wanted her to study, but Ginny had begged her to sit in on the musical's rehearsal today. _"They've been such a disaster, I really need some sympathy. You have to see it to believe it. Why did I want to do this, again?"_ Almost anything was better than being stuck at home with schoolwork, so Mel had agreed. To mollify her dad somewhat, she had brought some stuff with her. Trig was super confusing lately. Mel concentrated so hard on her notebook that she didn't notice Kyle Callahan, the student lighting designer, until he was standing right over her shoulder.

"That's wrong. It's actually negative."

"What?" Mel looked up to see Kyle reading her work.

"Problem 23. The answer is negative, because you forgot to multiply by -7." He reached down and pointed to the line in question.

"Oh. Thanks." Mel fixed it quickly. Kyle sat down next to her with a thud. When he stretched out his legs, his oversized pants covered in chains and studs spilled out into the aisle. It was weird to think that he was the same freckled little kid who used to do Little League with Charlie. Now Charlie was…well, _Charlie_, and Kyle's hair was bright green and all his clothes were black. His left eyebrow was pierced. He was in Mel's French class, but they'd never really talked before.

"You're Ginny's friend, right?"

"Yep. Since preschool."

"Oh. She's a pretty good actor. Singer, too. Better than a lot of the other girls. How come she's never done Paradise Thespians before?"

Mel shrugged. "We do ballet, usually. I guess she wanted to try something new." It also didn't hurt that Frankie had agreed to design the sets, but that wasn't Kyle's business.

"Well, tell her she should definitely audition again next year. Sari's graduating and no one else is going to be good enough for _A Midsummer Night's Dream_."

"You can tell her yourself," Mel pointed out. The noise onstage had subsided because Mrs. Murkowski given up and called for the cast to take a break. Ginny was heading over to their seats.

"Yo, Callahan!" someone shouted from the back of the house. "Stop flirting and get over here, dickweed! We have to finish the light plot!"

Kyle turned red – which seriously clashed with his hair – and yelled back, "I finished your mom, last night!"

"Yeah, you wish!"

Ginny walked up to them and Kyle leapt out of his seat. "I, uh, need to check if we have enough gels for the dentist scene. Hi, Ginny. Later, Melanie." He hurried back to the light booth.

"What was that?" Ginny asked.

"Beats me. At least he corrected my trig homework." Mel sighed. "You think Kyle's available for tutoring? I'm getting nowhere by myself."

"Probably not," Ginny said. She opened her backpack and got a granola bar. "The lighting guys are always doing weird things up there. I hardly ever see them in the cafeteria or anything. They must be really busy."

"_Everyone's_ busy right now. I'm, like, one step away from asking Jeff for help."

"Oh God, no! Don't do that! We can't get him to leave us alone at lunch as it is. He and Carl are, like, best friends now."

"Well, do you know anyone else? I'm kind of desperate here."

"Hey, Melanie." From out of nowhere, Frankie walked up to the two of them. Ginny squeaked and dropped her granola bar. He didn't seem to notice. "I thought you'd be in the library. I heard you were looking for a math tutor."

Mel raised her eyebrows. "I am. Are you offering?"

"Oh, no. Mathematics is important: like, it's the stuff that dreams are made on, but it does mess with the creative process. No, Cozette said to tell you she could do it."

_Oh._ "Really?"

"She was going to come find you herself to offer, but Principal Weaver wanted to go over her physics presentation for Parent-Teacher Night. She said she's free tomorrow, and most Tuesdays and Thursdays during A-block lunch."

"OK. Um, thank you. And her."

"Sure thing. Just text her to let her know you can do it. You have her number, right?"

"Yes," Mel said faintly. Cozette was amazing at math, of course. Why hadn't she thought of her in the first place? _You know why_, said the tiny voice.

"Cool." Frankie looked at his watch. "I have to get back to the literary magazine. They need their cover illustration for the spring issue by tomorrow. See you, Melanie. Bye, Virginia."

"Bye," Ginny whispered, gripping Mel's hand tightly. The two of them watched the most attractive guy in Paradise (according to the informal poll conducted on the second stall of the third floor girls' bathroom) walk away.

_Thursday, noon_.

Mel sat nervously in the school library, waiting for Cozette to show up. She had hidden her lunch under the desk on her lap, but was too jittery to eat. This was dumb. It was just math. She really needed the help. It would be stupid not to study with a math genius because she made your stomach hurt when she smiled. Mel had been telling herself variations of this all morning, but part of her still wanted to run back to the cafeteria and sit with Sasha and Boo and Ginny. _The Time Traveler's Wife_ had been on TV last night. They could spend the whole lunch period talking about Rachel McAdams again, just to annoy Roman.

"Hi, Cleo." Cozette set her messenger bag down on the table. "Ready for some functions?"

"Um, yeah. Thanks for helping me. And you can call me Mel. I won't be Cleosmacktra again until summer, at least." Mel unclenched her fists and opened her textbook. She could do this.

"All right. You made a great Cleo, though. Regal and righteous, 'burning on the water in purple and gold'. Too bad the derby uniforms were black." Mel blinked. "Queen Cleopatra, silly. That's how Shakespeare described her."

"Well, I'm not really regal at math, so." Lame. What happened to Melanie Segal, Captain of Sass? That Mel had apparently been replaced overnight with a moronic she-Hulk who couldn't multiply two digit numbers, let alone match anyone snark for snark.

They got down to work. Unsurprisingly, Cozette proved to be a great tutor, careful to go slowly and help Mel figure out each step. She gently pointed out when Mel kept forgetting to leave herself enough work space between problems, and showed her some calculator functions Mel had no idea were even possible. As long as Mel was careful not to – to talk about anything non-math-related, this could really work. They finished reviewing half of chapter 13 before the bell rang and for the first time in months, Mel thought she actually had a chance at pulling a C in trig. Maybe even a B, with Cozette's help.

"Great work, Mel. Same place on Tuesday?"

"Yes, please! Thank you so much."

"It was fun! I love trigonometry. When you finally see the answer, it's like a flower blossoming in front of you." Cozette swung her bag onto her shoulder. "See you at ballet this afternoon." She squeezed Mel's shoulder and headed out. Mel followed behind her at a distance. Some Cleopatra. It was obvious which of them was the queen and which the worthless peon.

_Monday evening_

"You really don't want fries or anything? You've been sitting here for 53 minutes." Jeff tapped his pen against his order pad and frowned.

"I told you, I'm waiting until Dez gets here," Melanie grumbled. The Oyster Bar was crowded for a Monday. The actual bar itself was pretty open, but there were tons of families tonight. The Woo twins at the next table were playing the cup game over and over while their mom read the newspaper. Mrs. Woo must have had a lot of practice concentrating, because she didn't even look up when the shorter one knocked her onion rings to the ground.

Jeff winced at that and turned back to Mel. "You sure he's coming? Does he know you meant today, and here?"

"Go away, Jeffrey, or I'll tell Rico you spit in my drink."

"He wouldn't believe that! I'm Assistant Manager!" Jeff squawked indignantly. But he left her alone and went to deal with the Woo situation.

It _was_ pretty weird for Dez to be this late. Mel checked her phone again – still nothing. Just three texts from Boo about movie choices for Sasha's tomorrow, one group text from Sasha telling everyone to stop texting her because her minutes were almost up, and a photo of a raised middle finger from Charlie. (Whatever.) Her stomach growled. Ballet had been extra hard today, maybe because it was her first lesson back post-injury. Madame Fanny had yelled at her twice for falling behind. Cozette had smiled sympathetically at Mel from across the room, which of course only made her more distracted. At last the phone rang, from a blocked number.

"Hello?"

"I'm really, really sorry, Mel. I really am. I"ll make it up to you –"

"Dez? What's going on? Where are you?"

"Off of the highway somewhere. I don't know exactly." His voiced sounded muffled. "Our team bus broke down on the way back from the game. We're still waiting for the tow truck and the replacement bus. My phone doesn't have service here; I had to borrow Aaron's. I'm really sorry – you should just eat, I don't know when we'll get back."

Mel sighed. "That sucks, Dez. I'm sorry."

"I'll call you tonight, I promise –" The call ended with a crackling noise. Mel stared down at the screen glumly. Great. Dez was also supposed to be her ride home. She couldn't walk home in the dark with both her backpack and all her dance stuff. Mom and Dad were both working late at the office. Charlie didn't get his license back until Sunday. Ginny's mom's car was in the shop. Boo didn't turn 16 until next month. There was only one person to call.

"Sasha? I'm stranded at the Oyster Bar. Can you pick me up?"

"Hi, Mel. So what happened to your shadow? Did the witless wonder lock his keys in his car again?" It sounded like Sasha was rattling pots and pans in the background.

"No, his Frisbee team's bus broke down. Are you busy? Please come?"

"Well, I can get you, but not before 9:30 at the earliest. I'm making beef wellington. Martha says the puff pastry has to be vented immediately or the steam won't escape."

"Is that bad?"

"Spoiled pastry is a crime against cookery, Melanie. You know Martha and I won't stand for it. I have to go, the mushrooms are burning. See you at 9:30." Sasha hung up.

As if on cue, Jeff returned to rub salt in the wound. "You've been here over an hour, Mel. There are five families waiting in line. Will you please explain to them why you're taking up a whole table by yourself to not eat our food?"

Mel stood up. "Fine, have your table, freak. At least my fly's zipped." She grabbed her bags and stomped off.

"Wha – hey! I did too zip my fly!" Jeff called after her. The look on his customers' faces partly made up for this failure of an evening.

Of course, when Mel got to the door, she realized she still needed to wait around for Sasha. And now there wasn't a single open table. Well, there was plenty of room at the bar? Mel waited until Jeff was completely occupied with getting the Alvarados their drinks, then carefully chose a stool out of his line of sight. Now if she could just stay unnoticed for another hour or so…

"So what can I get you, ma'am?" Godot, gorgeous as ever in a tank top and stubble, was grinning at her. "You're a little young for this spot, aren't you?"

"Oh please, let me stay. I'm waiting for my ride and I have all these bags, and, and, I dislocated my shoulder last week…" No shame for the desperate.

"Ah, a wounded warrior – that's different. I suppose I could do you a simple Coke-and-ice." He bent down to grab something from the shelves beneath the bar.

"Thank you, thank you –"

"Don't thank me yet. It's technically against the law for a minor to sit here, so you're going to have to wear this." Godot straightened up and handed Melanie a navy blue baseball cap with the word VIRGIN stitched on it in white. He laughed at her expression and started pouring a can of Coke into a glass. "Bash made it. It means there's no alcohol in your glass. Michelle wanted to add a label that said 'drinks not genitals', but I thought that might be too much."

"Maybe just a little," Mel said absently. She put the VIRGIN cap on. Everyone knew there had been _something_ going on between Michelle and Godot before she left, but none of the dancers could find out exactly what. "Speaking of Michelle…have you heard from her lately?"

"We talk now and then."

"Do…do you know if she's coming back to visit soon? Everyone misses her. I mean, some more than others, probably…"

Godot set down his bartender's rag and looked at her. "Listen, I'm here to serve people drinks, not gossip about my relationships. Unless this is a two-way street and you want to tell me all about your love life."

Melanie flushed. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it. So, if that glass had rum in it, it would be $6.50. I think $2.00 would cover the cost of the can and the labor, don't you think?" Godot rapped his knuckles on the brim of her cap. "I'll put it on your tab?"

"Thanks, Godot."

"You got it, kid. And cheer up, things will turn out OK."

Mel spun the little black straw in circles in her glass. She wished she felt as confident as he looked.

_Wednesday afternoon_

For the second time in 30 minutes, the laptop's internet disconnected. Mel kicked the foot of her bed in frustration. So much for her chem homework. If she couldn't log into WebAssign, she couldn't do it, right? But complaining that your internet didn't work was like saying your dog ate your homework. No teacher ever bought it and you just got a zero for the assignment. Maybe she ought to use the family desktop in the den. At least that computer didn't depend on a wireless connection for access.

Mel headed downstairs with her chemistry notes, grumbling to herself. School was going much better lately. Cozette was a huge help with trig, and she had to admit that giving up derby as well as driver's ed had made a big difference. Now she actually had time to do all her work, even if she didn't want to. Plus her GPA was slowly improving, although the jury was still out on whether it would be enough for the colleges Dad deemed acceptable. But she was still going to have to retake the SATs in the fall. Mel's February scores had been seriously lousy, and even Dad had understood that what with _Copp__é__lia_ at the start of May, there was no time to improve her grades _and_ do more SAT prep for the June test date.

Mel booted up the desktop and sighed. There could not possibly be anything in the world more boring than the kind of bonds atoms formed. She was never going to need to know this after graduation. So she checked her email, stalling. There was a short message from Sasha cc'd to Ginny about Boo's birthday in two weeks. _You said you knew some jewelry website full of dragons and stuff? We probably need to order right now if anything's going to get here in time. Send us the link ASAP._ Well, this was definitely more urgent than covalent bonds. Boo was more important than, like, the discovery of gravity.

It only took two minutes of Facebook stalking to find the URL for Sam's Etsy shop. Mel quickly forwarded it to the other girls. She was about to log off the social media timesuck when she saw on her newsfeed that Abby had just posted new photos from a recent derby bout with the Santa Barbara Belles on Wheels. The Las Virtudes team looked great. Boy, she really missed playing with them. The final photo in the album was of her team triumphantly celebrating their third straight loss (said the caption). At least two girls had black eyes and one was rubbing what looked like a deep cut on her elbow, but everyone was beaming like a toothpaste commercial.

Mel kept clicking through Abby's photos. A lot of them were of Sam, of course, but plenty were of these same three girls with her at different parties and things. They must be Abby's version of Ginny-and-Sasha-and-Boo, except these girls all looked, like, tougher. All of them had shortish hair and they seemed to wear plaid a lot. Mel wondered if –

"Why are you looking at a bunch of random lesbians?" Mel nearly jumped out of her seat. Charlie had come up behind her.

"Jesus, loser! Where the hell did you come from? That's my friend Abby from roller derby." Mel pointed to the screen, where a filthy, grinning Abby was planting a baby tree with her friends in the middle of some woods. "Anyway, you can't just call someone a lesbian–"

"I can if they're gay, idiot," Charlie interrupted. "That chick's wearing a rainbow choker. _ That_ girl's shirt says NO H8. And the fat one is wearing guys' cargo shorts and a bandana."

"I wear bandanas, moron."

"Yeah, but you're dating Dez. Seriously, check her profile, I bet it says she's into chicks." To shut him up, Mel clicked on it. Lila Turner didn't allow friends of friends to see much of her personal info, but her profile picture was definitely of her kissing another girl. Charlie crowed. "I bet Abby's a lesbian too, right?"

"Well…yeah. She is. But she's totally awesome."

"Whatever. Abby can date chicks all she wants, I don't care. She's not my type, anyway."

"Yeah, you like 'em big-boobed and brunette and stupid," Mel said. She ducked, but not in time – Charlie still managed to hit her over the head with the book he was holding. "What do you want, anyway?"

"Nothing. I was going to sit here and read, but now I'd be distracted by your fat ugly face."

"Asshole."

"Shitstain."

"Deformed fetus."

They would have gone on like this for a while – their personal best was half an hour of solid insults while in line for Splash Mountain five years ago – but the landline rang, and Charlie went to go answer it, flipping her the bird as he left the room.

Mel went back to Abby's photos. She didn't know why she was so interested in a bunch of girls she didn't know. Abby and Lila and the other girls all looked so relaxed and comfortable. Was that what college was like? No parents to nag you, no annoying brother to take up valuable oxygen the rest of the world could use…Mel caught her breath at the next photo. It was of a fancy party at some cool restaurant or bar or whatever from a few months ago. Abby and Sam were seated with their arms around each other. Abby was in a navy blazer and Sam was wearing a metallic beaded dress.

There were lots of other people in the photo, but Mel hardly noticed them, because at the very edge of the table, almost out of the frame, was Cozette. She was wearing some sort of black top that was incredibly low-cut (Mel could make out serious cleavage without even zooming in) and huge sparkling earrings. She looked unbelievably beautiful. She was half looking at the camera – clearly the photographer hadn't warned everyone in time – and half looking at the guy sitting next to her, whose hand she had reached out to touch. She was laughing. Suddenly, more than anything in the world, Mel wanted to know what Cozette had been laughing at. She wanted to be at that table. She wanted to sit there and laugh with her and make her laugh.


	5. Ch 4: slip your hands inside my pockets

**Thank you so much to everyone who's left reviews. (hint hint) BTW, the kudos feeds my ego, but your critique helps me improve as a writer.**

**Extra credit if you recognize the source material for Boo's present.**

Chapter 4: slip your hands inside my pockets

_Friday evening, mid-April_

Boo's birthday dinner ended with a totally out of tune group rendition of the sad flowers song from the Hunger Games movie, as led by her little brother Ezra. Then the Jordans kissed their eldest child and exited their home with as much grace as a grumpily 8-months-pregnant woman would allow. They were off to a jazz concert in Las Virtudes, _taking advantage of my last opportunity for cultural snobbery before being stuck with a year of mommy blogs and stained nursing tops, _Boo's mom had said as Mr. Jordan pushed his wife out the door.

Carl showed signs of wanting to linger around too, even though he knew the next part of the evening was strictly for people with boobs. "Beat it, kid!" Sasha growled, though less threateningly than usual. Even she admitted that Carl could put stars in Boo's eyes and that was, well, pretty cool. Carl rolled his eyes, kissed his girlfriend on the cheek and grabbed his jacket. He also grabbed Ezra, tugging him along by his t-shirt collar. Boo's brother had wrapped himself around Ginny's leg to grin toothily up at her, and she looked relieved to be released from the cobra jaws of death. (Ginny wasn't great with kids.) Carl was taking Ezra for a Big Man Sleepover, where he'd been promised lots of Elvis karaoke and Pokémon.

At last, it was just the four of them. Ballet had been too intense lately to really count as girl time. Plus everything had been so crazy this year, what with Ginny's play and Mel's tutoring and Sasha's domestic goddess-ing and Boo's…well, actually, Boo was the only one not having an insane semester. So it was especially important that they made her birthday special. Mel impulsively reached over and hugged her youngest best friend. Boo squeezed back happily, her new necklace swinging on its leather cord.

Mel thought that piece was kind of a strange choice; she had been arguing for the dragon pendant or the bracelet with Elvish writing, but Sasha had overruled her. Sasha had been friends with Boo the longest, and before middle school she'd read a lot of the same books. (Then she'd gotten really serious about ballet and fighting with her parents.) Sasha insisted that the weird bronze circle with the x in the middle would be the best option and bullied the others into paying extra for a rush order. Of course, she was right. Boo was ecstatic when she unwrapped their gift: "Now I'm an Old One!" Mel thought smugly that she had liked their present even better than Carl's. A signed Judy Blume box set was great and all, but everyone knew books weren't as good as jewelry.

"OK, Boo, what movie are we watching?" Ginny came in from the kitchen with homemade maple-vanilla popcorn.

"I know you guys aren't, like, the biggest fans, but I really want to see The Fellowship of the Ring, the extended edition," Boo said stoutly. The other girls groaned.

"Boo, haven't you seen that movie a zillion times? And I _know_ you've made us watch with commentary and stuff before." Even blonde Orlando Bloom couldn't make Mel interested in some dopey quest.

"I've only seen this edition twice! And even though it's kind of controversial, I really like all the extra Arwen scenes; I mean, I know it's not totally faithful to the original, but there's, you know, nothing _wrong_ with giving girls more lines –" A pillow hit Boo in the face.

"Shut up and put it in already," Sasha said. "But on my birthday it's Vivien Leigh and Marlene Dietrich or you're staying home."

Mel plopped on her stomach next to Ginny as Boo turned the TV on. "So did rehearsal run overtime? You were almost late."

"I _know_. Everyone's finally learned their lines, but the blocking's a total mess. Murkowski kept us late to rehearse the same stupid scene like six times. If Kyle hadn't faked some sort of lighting emergency, I think I'dve gone insane."

"Are you at least getting some sweet Frankie-watching in?"

"Well…not really. I mean, he still comes and does the sets, but I'm usually onstage when that happens. And they have to work in the art room so they don't get paint on the auditorium floor. We haven't even had drawing lessons in weeks." Ginny perked up. "But he did mention something about a youth art exhibition in June that he did some pieces for. In San Francisco. He said I should come to the opening!"

"Like a date?" Mel nudged her, grinning. At last they were getting somewhere, it had been seriously _months _of drooling.

"I hope so. Oh God, finally. It would be so great, maybe afterwards he could show me around his hometown…"

"Guys! Shut up!" Boo squealed. "This is one of my favorite scenes. Gandalf has the fireworks!" _Oh, Boo._ Everyone threw popcorn at her but let her get her dork on. It was her birthday, after all.

_Tuesday afternoon_

Mel stared into her locker absently, wondering what she should do with her unexpected free time. School was over for the day and she had just gotten a text from Rae-Rae: ballet class had been cancelled for the rest of the week because of an invasion of possums on the amphitheater grounds. So Madame Fanny was too busy freaking out to teach. Six months ago after hearing this news, Mel and her three best friends would have immediately run to the Oyster Bar or spent the afternoon watching terrible movies at one of their houses. Now…everyone had another hobby or activity that came right after ballet in importance. But it was way too sunny out for Mel to just study all the boring things for tomorrow. Maybe she should text Dez and see if she could hang out at Frisbee practice. That was a normal girlfriend thing to do, and she'd missed his last couple games. Yeah, that's what she'd do. Mel reached into her locker to put back her chemistry textbook.

"Hi, Melanie." Mel jumped in confusion and hit her head on the inside of her locker. "Oh, I'm so sorry! Are you OK?" Cozette had walked up next to her, her mo-ped helmet under her arm.

"Yeah, no big. So, you glad there's no ballet today?" Mel was getting a lot better at not freaking out around Cozette no matter how pretty she looked. The math tutoring had helped, of course. But also Cozette was too nice for Mel to just obsess about her prettiness. It felt unfair, like she wasn't paying enough attention to her lovely personality.

Cozette shrugged. "Sure, I suppose. It gives me more time to perfect my sax pieces for the jazz band regionals."

"Oh, right. How was the lunch practice today? I was kinda struggling with Chapter 16 without you, but I think I got most of it."

"It went OK. There's some tricky stuff towards the end of our second number and Ryan hasn't really memorized all of his section. But it'll all work out by next week." Cosette hesitated. "Listen, did you make other plans for this afternoon? If not...I mean, I thought maybe you could come over and we could catch up on trig, since we missed today."

"Oh, well, I was going to hang out with my boyfriend, but –"

"Oh no, definitely do that!" Cozette said quickly. "I don't want to interrupt anything. You're dating that senior Dez, right? Frankie says he's decent at Frisbee, which means he's probably great. Frankie doesn't really do big compliments." She rolled her eyes, grinning.

Watching Frisbee would be more fun than trig, but on the other hand, Mel saw Dez a lot and she'd never really hung out with Cozette before. Not outside of school, anyway. And this way she'd get to see their house. Not even Mitch Alvarado and his groupies had been over, apparently. "No, it's no big deal. I hadn't even texted him yet. He's probably busy. I'd love to come over!"

"Great!" Cozette smiled and an already sunshiny day got even brighter. "We live on the outskirts of town, so you'll have to sit on back of the mo-ped. It's really too far to walk. I hope you don't mind."

"Mind? Of course not!"

Riding behind Cozette (gripping tightly onto her torso as far away from boobs or butt as she could manage), Mel thought for the first time about how beautiful Paradise was in the spring. She'd always taken it for granted before. Plus Cozette apparently lived off of one of the private roads, where everyone had giant properties and could afford some serious landscaping. Mel didn't know personally know anyone who lived in the "Loaded Island" as her mom always called that section jokingly. They were mostly big houses sold or rented by Ms. Thompson and her real estate office to seriously rich weirdos who usually avoided everyone else. Those people hardly ever came into the Oyster Bar, even on trivia night, and they never seemed to shop at any of the local supermarkets and stuff. Mel thought that was kind of annoying, but her dad said these people all paid a buttload in property taxes so no one really had the right to complain. Strange to think that Cozette, who was so friendly, lived here. But it was obvious from the way she talked that her family had a ton of money, even if she didn't mean to brag. That was one of the things Ginny had secretly hated about Cozette from the start – her parents' divorce hadn't exactly helped the Thompson finances any.

Cozette's house turned to be pretty average-sized for the Loaded Island, which still meant it was bigger than Mel and Boo's houses put together. The house was made of black stone with some pinkish-white stone accents and a really wide front door. It was built partly into the side of a rocky cliff and full of huge windows so you could see into practically every room. It was sort of like a split-level since there weren't exactly two separate floors, except that split-levels were usually pre-fab and this house looked like an artist had lovingly assembled it over the course of several years, like a masterpiece.

The décor inside matched the outside in terms of understated but obviously expensive taste. It was pretty empty – minimalist, they probably called it – with lots of exposed copper piping and silver and white furniture. Even the chandelier in the front hall looked like something out of a modern art museum, and the living room fireplace had a big Asian-style tapestry hanging above it. That was the only thing that didn't quite go with the rest of the design, but it was really beautiful and so that maybe didn't matter. Not that Mel was a big taste-maker or anything.

"Here we are!" Cozette removed her helmet and dropped her messenger bag on the spotless, oblong white sofa that was balanced on two curved, thin metal legs. Mel wouldn't have dared throw her stuff on a piece of furniture that looked that expensive. She'd be afraid to break it. "Want anything to eat or drink before we start?"

"Oh, no, I'm fine. Wow, your house is amazing, Cozette! Are your parents, like, famous architects or something? Or interior designers? Seriously, this place could be a museum."

Cozette laughed. "Oh no, our dad's a medical anthropology professor at Stanford and Mom's a fashion photographer – now, anyway. She used to be a model." _Of course_. "But this isn't their house. Frankie and I are living with our godparents, the Hoglunds. Until we graduate next year."

"Why? Oh – was that rude? Sorry." Mel ran her hand over the gleaming coffee table. Nothing in the Segal household was this shiny. Most of their living room was covered in other people's tax forms at this time of year. If you so much as moved one of the piles an inch to make room on the couch, Mom grounded you for a week.

"No, don't worry. This is the Hoglunds' winter home. They spend their summers on Martha's Vineyard usually, and they came back a little early this year so we could all get settled in. Anyway, Dad landed some huge grant doing research in the Australian outback last summer and Mom didn't want to go with him, so she moved back to New York to catch up with her old network and shoot some long-term contract work for Vogue. I've been to the outback before and we'd just be in the way, so Martin and Anne-Britt said we could live here with them if we wanted."

"You didn't want to go to New York?"

"No, we lived there when I was in middle school and I didn't really like it." Cozette spread their textbooks out on the table in front of the sofa.

_Huh? _How could anyone not like New York City? It had literally everything – at least that's what all the movies said. And if life there was like _Sex in the City_, Cozette would totally have been a teenage version of that! Or _Gossip Girl_, or something_._ Mel said so.

"Well yeah, the food and the fashion and the arts are all great, but after a while that gets kind of old. New Yorkers can be really snobby, and you always have to be the best of the best to keep up. Plus Cali weather's much nicer. So when Anne-Britt offered to have us, I pretty much said yes right away. The Hoglunds aren't around much, and we can basically take care of ourselves. And I was kind of excited about trying a small town for a change, so I convinced Frankie to come here. He couldn't care less; he'd be cool anywhere."

"What would you want with Paradise? We have, like, nothing interesting at all. Not like New York or San Francisco or even Las Virtudes." If she didn't already live here, Paradise was seriously the last place in the world Mel would want to visit.

"That's not true! OK, so the movie theater's only open a few months a year, but that's not a big deal since you can always, you know, torrent stuff. And it's gorgeous here and everyone's really friendly, mostly. And most places don't have a dance studio like Madame Fanny's. I mean, I took some pretty advanced classes at the Academy of Ballet in San Fran, but –" _naturally,_ Mel thought – "the students were all really intense and mean. You guys do ballet because you love it, not because you have something to prove. And you all actually like hanging out with each other. Even Jordan's sweet, deep down."

"After Boo gets to him, anyway." They both laughed.

"Anyway, it's the way you guys are all so close and supportive. I just…I wanted that for a change."

"But you're super friendly! Everyone loves you – Mitch Alvarado thinks you're great! I can't believe you weren't popular in San Francisco…"

Cozette smiled sadly. "I've lived in eight cities in three countries since I was five years old, so I've gotten used to being the new kid. You learn how to be really nice so people like you. That's not the same as real friends, though. And it does get tiring, after a while. Sometimes I interrupt things when I arrive and people get mad, like when I break up old friendships without meaning to."

Mel felt a stab of guilt. "You mean like with me and Ginny?" Cozette didn't say anything. "Listen, she's just going through a lot of stuff this year, really –"

"There's always someone going through some stuff in every town," Cozette said softly.

Mel reached out and touched the other girl's hand. "I think you're amazing. I mean it. You saved my butt telling me about roller derby; I was going crazy before! I don't know what I'd do without you. I mean, I know I'd be failing math, at least. I'm really glad you came to Paradise. You're _my_ friend, whatever Ginny says. She doesn't control everything."

"Thanks, Mel. That means a lot." Cozette smiled. Mel smiled back. For a minute they just looked at each other without saying anything. Cozette's eyes were big and brown and her lashes were crazy long. She had a little spot of lighter brown in one of her irises; it was really cute. Mel hesitated – she didn't know exactly what was happening, Cozette was leaning forward... _Was she going to_ – but then Cozette's cell phone vibrated.

"Hello? Oh, hey Frankie. Uh huh." Cozette stood up as she talked to her brother. Mel leaned back against the couch feeling relieved and disappointed at the same time. "Uh huh. No. Yep, he emailed last week. Oh. Are you sure? OK. Well, OK. Yeah, I'm calling her tonight. Haha – yeah, definitely! All right. You too. Bye, little bro." Cozette hung up and flopped back down next to Mel. She was looking sad again.

"Everything OK?" Mel asked.

"Yeah – well, not exactly. But it'll be fine." Cozette tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "My dad called Frankie just now to check in. He was supposed to fly back here to visit us next month, but it looks like he can't make it. The Melbourne team only has a few more weeks before their funding runs out, so all of the researchers need to collect as much data as possible. They're doing amazing work, so…so I'm really happy for him. It just means he'll miss seeing _Copp__é__lia_, that's all. And Mom will be in Paris for that weekend, anyway. I guess it'll just be Frankie coming."

Oh no! But Cozette was dancing Swanhilde! Mel couldn't imagine _any_ of her family members not making it to at least one performance of her recitals, including back when she'd been Third-Tree-From-The-Left. Even Grandpa Harris usually got wheeled in to the back row and snored quietly through the later scenes. And neither of Cozette's parents could be there at all? "I'm so sorry, Cozette. That majorly sucks." Mel frowned. "But wait, why'd your dad call Frankie and not you?"

"Oh, you know," Cozette waved a hand airily but she didn't look at Mel. "He and Frankie have always been really tight, closer than with me. Because they're guys, I guess. Plus when you call from overseas, the timing's always weird, and he probably had to get back to the campsite, so…" She trailed off. Mel bit her lip, unsure of what to say. There was a pause, and then Cozette bent down to pick up one of the textbooks. "Anyway, trig! You were making awesome progress on Chapter 15 last week, and –"

"No!" Mel blurted out. She didn't think she could bear studying when Cozette seemed so sad. Cozette looked up, startled. "No, I mean – I think I can handle that part, really. I was just kidding earlier. Everything's been super easy now that you're helping. Maybe…maybe we could just chill for a while? Have you seen that YouTube video of the baby panda sneezing?" It was Boo's favorite.

"I have, but... I could watch it again."

"There is no bad time to watch a panda video," Mel declared. And there was no way she was going to let Cozette be upset when baby animals existed.

Of course, the two of them ended up getting absolutely no work done whatsoever. But that was fine by Mel. She really was doing better in trig lately, and Cozette clearly hadn't spent a day just goofing around in a long time. Mel wasn't a genius at school or at driving or anything like that, but she was definitely the _master_ of lazing away and she proceeded to demonstrate for her new friend how to waste an afternoon with dignity.

The Hoglunds didn't stock much junk food, but Mel melted a ton of some imported organic Norwegian cheese on kale chips with chili powder and made really-weird-but-somehow-great nachos. They watched roughly a million cute animal videos and eventually landed on videos of classic dance routines. Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers were old news, but neither of them had seen before the footage of Gene Kelly and Julie Andrews hoofing it on a TV show she hosted in the '70s. They were amazing, and obviously Mel and Cozette had to try the choreography out for themselves. Mel hadn't taken tap in years (Madame Fanny discouraged it as distracting for her advanced ballet students), but it was a lot of fun to just play around.

Two hours later, Cozette seemed to have completely forgotten about her jerk of a dad. The Hoglunds's fancy sound system was running down a playlist of cheesy '80s songs and lots of ABBA and they had made up a bunch of truly ridiculous dance moves. Cozette's hair had fallen out of its bun and she was red in the face with laughter. She had a huge cheese stain on her designer t-shirt. She'd banged her shin on the fancy coffee table at one point and was probably going to have a nasty bruise. Mel had never seen her look so untidy before – or so, well, _human_. Cozette the person was actually a lot more fun than Cozette the glorious queen genius tutor prima ballerina.

When "Take A Chance On Me" came to an end, in the sudden quiet the girls could hear the smoke detector going off in the kitchen. Whoops. "Oh my god, the cookies!" Cozette ran into the kitchen, but she didn't sound upset. "Mel, I'm so sorry! They're all totally burnt!"

"No problem," Mel called. "Let's just make more! We still have all that batter left, right?"

"Um….I may have eaten most of it while you were in the bathroom…"

The time had raced by and Mel had learned some surprising things. It turned out that the Girl Who Everyone Loved didn't actually have many genuine friends. Cozette's life definitely sounded super glamorous and exciting and full of adventures but it also sounded kind of…lonely. Mel suddenly felt a huge rush of love for Sasha and Ginny and Boo. Each of them could be annoying and needy in their own way, but there was also no question that they'd rally around each other whenever life sucked. As they always had and probably always would. Maybe Mel could convince the others to add Cozette to their group. Not as a new best friend, but as someone worth looking after. Like Matisse, only older and cooler and prettier. Cozette needed good, caring people in her life. And even if Mel couldn't…_anyway_, Mel could definitely do something about that.

_Monday morning_

Only ten minutes had passed since the last time that Mel had looked at the clock, but it felt more like fifty. Madame Green was explaining to French 3 about the subjunctive again, so there was no point in paying attention. They went over this in practically every class and you either understood it or you didn't. Nothing Mme. Green said seemed to make any difference to anyone in the room. The only part Mel was clear on – she hated French and had only signed up for it because of the ballet terms – was that the subjunctive was for things that weren't true but that you wished were true. Weird how French people had made up a whole new set of verbs and things just to talk about that.

There were a lot of things that Mel wished were true. She wished she weren't taking French, for one. But you needed a foreign language on your transcript to get into college. She wished she didn't have to go to college, or at least not decide about college just yet. She wished Charlie wouldn't leave for UCLA at the end of the summer, mostly because it meant Mom and Dad would focus all their energy on her future plans. She wished Grandpa Harris would be OK; his cough was sounding worse. She wished she could remember to wash her spare leotard on the weekends. She wished she'd had a chance to hang out with Cozette during yesterday's extra ballet rehearsal, but Ginny had come rushing over with some Frankie drama, and then Sasha came over to bitch about Jordan's technique and suddenly Mel had been surrounded by her best friends and she didn't know how to reach out to Cozette, who was standing on the outside of their circle. Cozette hadn't looked upset, though – she'd just turned away and started talking to Genevieve and Rae-Rae. Mel had never been that close with either of those girls, but suddenly she'd wanted to be their best friends instead.

Mel needed more guts when it came to her actual best friends, she thought. Boo definitely wouldn't have any problem hanging out with Cozette and Sasha probably wouldn't care either. Much. Not as long as Cozette didn't accidentally brag about any of her famous dance world friends. But Ginny would care _a lot_, even if she was obsessed with Cozette's brother. Boys were different, somehow – she'd accepted Roman and Carl and Dez sitting at their lunch table, mostly because those guys kept pretty quiet. But Cozette was a girl, and allowing a new girl into their group would mean allowing her into all their secrets and things, or it wouldn't be fair. Mel wasn't sure how she could convince the others, but there must be a way. Cozette was great and deserved good friends, and Mel didn't know any friends better than Sasha and Ginny and Boo. And it would be awesome to have her join things like Trivia Night – she probably knew all the art and fashion stuff because of her parents – and she probably had great taste in movies for their sleepovers. Mel blinked quickly, trying to erase the thought of Cozette lounging on Sasha's floor in pajamas. Maybe she didn't even wear pajamas. Maybe she wore nightgowns or over-sized t-shirts or – _stop it,_ she thought. _This isn't solving the friend problem, which is the whole point_.

"C'est, uh, cette chaise libre?" Kyle Callahan was standing in front of her. Mel looked up at him, confused. "It's Temps de Conversation," he said. "You know, ten minutes of French discussion with a classmate? To talk about the weather or weekend plans and stuff. Can I be your partner?"

Oh, right. "Sure," Mel said. Normally she partnered with Carl – he was sitting next to Kelsey Higgins, looking uncomfortable – but Kyle might be a nice change, actually. Mel was running out of nerd things to pretend to care about, and Carl had pretty much exhausted his French vocabulary to describe Boo by now. "Sit down. Um…Quelle est la musicale? Les lumières sont-les... working?"

Kyle's eyes lit up. "Yeah! Nous avons dû remplacer certains des Fresnels, mais c'est OK parce je jamais ne les aimais; ils sont comme des boîtes de métal avec une lightbulb…" He talked on and on for a while.

Mel had literally no idea what he was saying but nodded along. Clearly Kyle cared a lot about lighting and sound and all the rest of it. Mel had never really paid attention to the lights at the ballet studio, but then there wasn't a group of people working on them like Kyle, not like there was for the drama club. She guessed it was pretty cool that he was so into that stuff, since it seemed to take up a lot of time. Mel wasn't even sure she cared as much about ballet as he did about stage crew. Like, she obviously cared about Madame Fanny and dancing with the other girls, and _Copp__é__lia_ was a pretty neat story, but she definitely wasn't as serious as Sasha or even Boo. She had been totally fine after not landing that Joffrey audition – even though Paradise could be dead boring in the summer, ballet wasn't the way she wanted to leave. Definitely not after hearing Sasha's and even Cozette's stories about the dance world outside of their town. It would be fun to study dance at college, but Mel wasn't sure that was the only thing she wanted to do. Honestly, she had _no idea_ what she wanted to do after high school. It was super frustrating how you were expected to know stuff like that. Oh, wait – Kyle was saying something about Ginny.

" – un petit-ami?"

"What?"

"Ginny… elle est avec Josh, oui? Ils sont toujours ensemble, mais je n'ai pas vu à Josh à la musicale."

Mel stared at him, French temporarily forgotten. "Ginny, with Josh? Josh Hutchinson? Dude, what planet are you living on? They broke up last spring!"

Kyle blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah, man. How did you not know that? You must have been too busy playing with your…lighting tools." He flushed. Mel sighed. "Oops – sorry. That was kind of jerky of me. I mean, imbécile", she added hastily. Mme. Green was walking by.

"That's enough, mes élèves!" Mme. Green announced, reaching the front of the classroom. She walked over to the supply closet and pulled out the projector stand. "Everyone please return to their chaises assignées. Il est temps pour Apprécier les Arts!" The class groaned. Art Appreciation was even worse than the subjunctive – Mme. Green would make them stare at some ancient painting by some old dead French guy and then they'd have to come up with ways to pretend to care about it using their vocabulary lists. Yuck.

Kyle stood up and returned to his seat a few rows over. He had looked like he wanted to say something else, but there wasn't time. Mme. Green had already switched the lights off. Mel vaguely wondered why he'd chosen her as a conversation partner – they had zero in common – but forgot about it as soon as the chosen painting appeared on the whiteboard.

Mel didn't know what to think about the painting. This one was weird, because it didn't look totally finished. It was of a girl dancer. Well, Mel wouldn't have known that for sure if the caption underneath hadn't said _Edgar Degas – "Danseuse"._ There was no background, just beige canvas or whatever. The dark-haired girl mostly had her back to the audience: her chin was tilted up and her eyes were closed. She could have been Cozette, if you squinted. It looked like she was massaging her neck, or something. Her costume wasn't finished; it was a white leotard with skirts outlined but not filled in. Degas hadn't given her any legs either. But somehow, even though the picture wasn't done, it looked more _alive _than a lot of the other Art Appreciation pieces Mme. Green had shown them in the past.

Mel thought she knew exactly what the girl in the picture was feeling. She had felt the same relieved weariness after performing, the stiffness of your neck, and how long it could take to unwind after long hours at the barre. It was amazing that Degas could capture her own thoughts on a half-finished painting of a girl from a hundred years ago. Mel wondered if he painted a portrait of the real Cozette what it would look like. It would have to include her awesomeness and her beauty, clearly, but could it also get the secret nervousness behind the niceness? Or the way she looked triumphant when Mel solved a hard math problem? Or her confident poise at the end of a long rehearsal? Degas was apparently a genius at painting, so probably he could. The best part of painting Cozette would be getting to hang out with her for hours while she posed, trying to get the lighting and the little details right. Mel wasn't sure which would be better: all that time spent working on it next to her or the final result. They both sounded wonderful.

_Saturday night_

A spring breeze blew through Paradise Community Park and lightly pushed Mel's hair off of her shoulders. It was the perfect weather for wandering around outside in the dark with your super cute boyfriend, who you hadn't spent alone time with in ages because of…all the stuff going on. So, obviously, this was what Mel and Dez were doing. She was actually surprised that there weren't more couples walking on the garden paths. They had only passed one or two, and that was way earlier.

"Hey, was there a party or something tonight? This place is super empty, and it's usually, like, hookup central."

"Yeah, I know." A cloud had just passed over the moon so Mel couldn't see Dez's face properly, but she could picture the smirk. "But yeah, half the track team qualified for regionals, so they're all having a kegger over at Jason Odom's. That's probably where everyone is."

"Oh, right." Mel frowned. "You didn't want to go? I thought you were tight with some of those guys."

"Sure, but I've been hanging with Alex and Steve a ton lately. We're second semester seniors; school's basically a joke now. They can get wasted without me for once. Although usually I'm the designated driver," Dez added quickly. "Anyway, those parties are loud as shit, and I wanted to just chill with you. I missed you." He squeezed her hand.

Mel stopped walking and leaned into him. Dez put his arms around her waist and they stood in the shadow of a beech tree. She reached up and put a hand to his cheek. His eyes were a really nice, soft green. Mel closed her eyes and listened to the wind rustling the leaves. They could have been the starring couple in a Taylor Swift music video, the kind that Ginny and Boo always played over and over again on their phones. She could almost hear the guitars in the background. Mel was about to reach up and kiss him – straight to tongue, even – when Dez pulled away and spoke.

"Listen, Mel, there's something important I have to ask you." What did he mean? Oh jeez, oh jeez, he was kneeling down. Was this even happening? They'd only been dating for, like, four months! She was way too young for – "Melanie Segal, will you….go to prom with me?"

_What?_ "What?" Mel looked at her idiot prankster boyfriend again and saw that his hand held a flat white rectangle, not a terrifying square box. A ticket. To senior prom.

"Prom, of course. You know, the big dance at the end of the year? Held in the Las Virtudes Resort/Convention Center? Limos and corsages and terrible DJs that everyone pretends they like?"

"You almost gave me a heart attack, Jesus!" Mel swatted him on the arm. "Yes, you jerk, I'll go to prom with you. I thought you knew that. I mean, I was already expecting to."

"Awesome! I mean, uh, I figured. But I thought maybe the romantic part was important. Girls like that stuff, don't they?" Dez was beaming up at her. He'd never looked more like a puppydog. A hot puppydog. Uh – that analogy didn't work. Never mind. He was attractive, was the point.

"C'mon, get up. Let's go sit on that park bench." She reached out her hand. Dez took it, stood up, picked Mel up, and swung her around – all in one go. That was pretty smooth, she had to admit. She went to kiss him on the cheek, but got his ear instead. Dez laughed out loud.

"You're the best! The funniest, prettiest, coolest girlfriend ever. And you're such a good dancer, and probably you're amazing at roller derby too, and – "

"Shut up already, I'm not that cool!"

"Oh you are, you definitely are. Prom is going to be so great, you'll see." Dez actually carried her over to the bench. Her seat in his arms was wobbly but secure. He had really big biceps; from Frisbee, probably.

They sat on the wooden bench and Mel plopped her legs in Dez's lap. He was talking excitedly about prom plans; faster than he usually talked, even. Dez had always been the strong, silent, slow kind of guy. Mel was the sass, he was the steady. But tonight they'd switched roles. He was doing all the talking and she was listening.

Well, not totally listening. Mel made eye contact with him and nodded a bunch, but her thoughts were drifting into unsettling territory. Mel was a junior; she didn't know a whole lot of people in the twelfth grade. Not very well, anyway. None of her friends would be going to prom – Roman was a senior, but even on the off chance that he'd be interested in something so mainstream, there was no way he and Sasha would want to hang with Dez's friends. Probably (definitely) they'd be in the same group as Charlie and Stacia, and Alex and Steve, and some Frisbee guys and their dates. That wouldn't be, like, _terrible_, even if it meant she and Charlie would have to call a truce or something for the night. Which they could definitely do, right?

Worse than a whole evening with Charlie would be finding a dress and heels and all that jazz. It wasn't like she had a whole lot of time for shopping, what with the recital next month, two weeks before prom. She'd have to find some time. Mom would be excited about that – she always complained that Mel didn't care a whole lot about fashion. _You're so tall and slender, Melanie! You should dress like it. At your age I still had all my baby fat without even any proper curves_! Plus Stacia had said she could help out with prom things. Not that Mel was a huge fan of Stacia's style, but she definitely knew all the important stuff, and her cousin had that hair salon, so.

Also…what about after prom? Dez was totally a gentleman, but, like, everyone knew that practically the whole point of prom was getting laid afterwards. Ginny had always been really gushy about that idea, provided she had the right date, but Mel had kind of hoped that she'd go stag to her own prom and just dance without all the extra stuff. She never dreamed she'd have to go as a junior. But if she _had_ to go with any guy, it would definitely be Dez. He was a Taylor Swift-model boyfriend, only without any drama.

In the past four months, so far all they'd done was make out, but…but if Dez really wanted to sleep with her on prom night…well, maybe she could convince him to put that off. Until summer, possibly. They could go to third base or something instead. Was a blow job romantic enough? She winced mentally at the thought of giving one. Not really ready for that either. She guessed they'd figure something out. He looked so happy. Mel didn't want to harsh his buzz with heavy stuff right now.

"Hey, listen. Lover boy." Mel clonked Dez on the head with a fist. "This is really romantic and all, but we really don't have to plan everything tonight. We've got more than a month before it happens." _Thank god_.

He grinned. "You're right. You're always right. Sorry." Dez seized her face again and kissed her. Mel felt kind of tingly, but she wasn't totally sure if that was from Dez or from lingering nervousness about prom. _Listen to your own advice, Mel. Forget about prom and focus on now_. She started to lean back length-wise against the seat of the bench, and Dez brought his hands down her sides and helped ease her down. He was careful, slow and sure of himself, and Mel wondered vaguely who else he'd done this with. She'd never thought about that before.

Mel was definitely the least experienced of her friends when it came to sex stuff. Sasha and Roman had finally slept together two weeks ago, after months of her strategic planning. The other three girls had gotten all the details at their sleepover last night. Sasha had refused to talk until they'd all tried and praised her Baked Alaska, but then she'd spilled all the good stuff and they'd goofed around for, like, hours. Boo and Carl were waiting for sex until just before their prom next year, but they'd been dating so long that they'd had to have done more things than Mel. And Ginny had dated Josh from 2nd grade to 10th; obviously after they hit puberty, they'd, you know, hooked up. If you could call it hooking up when you were a couple. It was only Mel who'd been perennially dateless and sex-stuff-less until Dez. And she hadn't minded, really.

This felt really good, though. Dez murmured something into her hair that she didn't quite catch, and then slid one hand underneath her shirt. Mel shivered briefly – the fabric rode up and the cool air was a sudden shock – and Dez stopped right away. "I'm fine," she whispered. "Really. Just the cold. Keep – keep doing that." It was time for more experience, right? It was time.

Dez put his hand back (the other was cradling her head, keeping it off of the bench's metal armrest) and ran it gently up her right side and over the top of her bra. Mel exhaled. Did he want to take her shirt off? She couldn't remember what bra she was wearing, if it was ugly or old or something. Probably he didn't care. Dez groaned a little. _Definitely_, he didn't care.

God, no wonder everyone else was crazy about dating. If you got to do this – have someone do this to you – it was for sure worth all the craziness. He was massaging her boobs slowly and it felt, like, like, she didn't know what. All of this was totally new; were there words for this kind of feeling? Mel brought her hand down from Dez's neck and aimed in the general direction of his waist, intending to feel his bare skin too. She missed at first, hitting his jeans, and almost felt like giggling. Was that rude? She was probably supposed to be calm and poised, like in the movies. Sasha would have been calm. Boo would probably be super nervous, but then so would Carl. Ew, she didn't want to think about kissing Carl. Ginny was usually manic about boys when they weren't around, but she had always been relaxed _with_ Josh. Stacia was more experienced than all of them put together; no question she would be calm. She would probably be the one in control.

Those were all the girls who she knew well enough to guess about. Except for Cozette. Not that Mel really knew any details about Cozette's relationships. That was exactly the kind of stuff Mel had carefully avoided talking about when they hung out. All she knew was there had been at least one boyfriend in San Francisco, and then whatever happened at that modeling camp. Mel still didn't really get what two girls hooking up would be like. Stacia had said that two sets of boobs got in the way, but probably most lesbians figured out how to handle that. Suddenly Mel had a mental image of Cozette and Sam spooning on a bed, doing what she and Dez were doing. Her eyes flew open. This was totally, 100% not what you were supposed to be thinking about when your boyfriend was feeling you up for the first time. _Oh crap_, she sucked at this. Why did she care how or who Cozette hooked up with?

Dez. Dez was the one that mattered. He was doing most of the work right now, and he was great at it, and she should be grateful. It did feel amazing. Mel ran her hands over his shoulder blades, feeling his muscles relax beneath her touch. _Shut up, stupid brain,___she thought. _Dez thinks he's the luckiest guy in the world dating me, but I'm the lucky one_, _really_. She would bet a whole lot that not too many high school guys would be so gentle and considerate. The moon came out from behind a cloud. The stars were sparking high above. The music video version of this night would be magical. No, the _real_ version was magical. Mel clung to that thought, and to her wonderful, hot boyfriend on a suddenly special bench in Paradise Park.


	6. Ch 5: baby, you're on the brink

**This chapter approaches an 'M' rating for language, because angry teenagers say "fuck". **

**Lambswool is used by ballet dancers to stuff and firm their pointe shoes.**

**A heads up: the upcoming week is very busy for me, so Chapter 6 will be delayed. Thanks in advance for your patience – why not leave a nice review while you wait? ;) **

Chapter 5: baby, you're on the brink

_Sunday afternoon, May._

The tired but exhilarated students of Paradise Dance Academy's Advanced Co-ed Ballet gathered around Madame Fanny in the balcony changing room. In twenty minutes, they would perform their second matinee and final performance of _Copp__é__lia_. So far they'd done great. Her parents had attended both of the evening shows, and Charlie (under protest) and Dez (sweetly eager) had made last night's show. Dez couldn't be there today because of morning Frisbee practice, but he'd promised to pick her up afterwards, and maybe catch the final act if they'd let him in. Boo had teased Mel about how much Dez followed her around: _Next thing you know, you'll be like me and Carl! (But seriously, if you two want to babysit the Winklevurns soon, that would be __really great__. When Mom goes into labor, it's going to be crazy at our house.)_ Mel hadn't really known how to respond to that, which made Boo laugh more.

Madame Fanny was calling for everyone's attention. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is my final speech." She frowned. "Where are Deborah and Matisse?"

"In the bathroom," several people chorused. Before every performance, Deborah had to spend at least ten minutes vomiting from nerves. She never missed a step onstage, though, so everyone got used to it. Matisse always volunteered to make sure she didn't stain her costume.

"Oh, yes, of course. Well! I hope you know how very proud I am of all of you." Madame Fanny clasped her hands together with pleasure. "You've done a simply marvelous job! I am sure Saint-Leon is smiling below the earth in his picturesque Parisian graveyard. Your absolutely _final_ notes: Genevieve, you're still not balanced enough in scene five. Please square your shoulders more on your entrance. You too, Artie. Cozette and Jordan, I want you to hold that final lift a little longer. Don't rush the applause. Sasha, dear, excellent work last night, but remember your facial expressions as well as your arches. Oh! I almost forgot to mention: Truly is recording today's performance for Michelle, so you really must do your very best." A pleased murmur ran through the huddle. "Oh yes, she said she was very sad she couldn't be here, but she simply cannot _wait_ to see the DVD! Now, darlings, it's time to for 'places'. Go, go!" Madame Fanny shooed her pupils down the stairs.

Mel's stomach twisted again, but this time it was the familiar sensation from before every recital. Her nervousness was so routine that it was barely noticeable. The music swelled, and Melane's mind cleared as she stepped out into the dazzling lights.

_After the show_

The last performance of _Copp__él__ia_ was a triumph. The bows had been taken, the parental bouquets had been distributed, Madame Fanny had been thunderously applauded, and the audience had cleared out of the studio. Now it was all over but Deborah's ritual post-show vomiting. (Her mom, clearly a very patient woman, had parked herself downstairs by the piano with a book and told Deborah to just come down when she was ready.) Tomorrow afternoon's class would be devoted to tearing down the set pieces, packing away the costumes, stacking the chairs, and listening to Madame Fanny's final, _final_ critiques (to remember for next year, she always said). Afterwards the studio would close for a week while Madame Fanny "retired to the fresh mountain air" to celebrate and relax.

Mel was idling by the changing room window. For some reason, she didn't really want to get into her street clothes. Sasha and Ginny and Boo had all left – Boo in a particular hurry, because Mr. Jordan was nervous about leaving his wife home alone so close to her due date. Rae-Rae said goodbye and headed out too. Now it was just Mel and Cozette left (and also Deborah, in the bathroom).

"That was so great!" Cozette was stretching, seemingly for the hell of it. Mel tried not to watch the way her chest moved slightly in the opposite direction of her torso. "I'm going to miss class with all you guys. Does Madame Fanny do summer sessions?"

"Um, well, she didn't last year, because Michelle was away. And this year she's probably going to be busy with building the amphitheater and stuff. But she usually at least has an open studio session once or twice a week, so we can keep in shape."

"Oh, good! I mean, I'm not trying to be Wendy Whelan or anything. Dancing is just a lot of fun." Cozette bent down to touch her toes.

For no reason at all, Mel's shoulder suddenly hurt. It couldn't be from that derby injury, could it? She'd been pretty careful about not overworking it and doing some of that physical therapy stuff from the hospital booklet. "Ow."

Cozette looked up. "What's the matter? Oh no, your poor shoulder. Here, let me see." She walked over to the window and gently placed one hand on Mel's upper back. Mel tried to breathe normally. "Whoa, Mel, you've got a huge knot here! I'm no doctor, but I don't think you really pulled anything. You just need a good massage."

"Oh. Um…"

"Scootch over, l've got this." Cozette sat on the window bench and pushed Mel down in front of her. "Frankie and I learned a whole bunch of things at this yoga retreat in Costa Rica a few years ago. I haven't, like, practiced in a while, but I think I remember the basics."

Oh _wow_. If this was the basics, Mel couldn't even guess what the advanced stuff was like. Now her whole upper back was on fire, but in a good way. Cozette's hands were soft and cool, in sharp contrast to Mel's skin. She could have fried an egg on practically any body part. Somehow Cozette was working all the tension out of her body, leaving her limp and happy. Now that ballet was over, when they hung out maybe Cozette could teach her how to do this. Give someone a massage, she meant. Probably Mel couldn't exactly make Cozette feel the same way, but…

"Melanie, are you in here?" Dez knocked on the doorframe.

Mel sat up, electrified. He was staring at the two of them. Cozette waved cheerily, but Mel's face burned. "H – hi, Dez."

"I was waiting outside," he mumbled. "When you didn't come down, I thought – never mind. I'll meet you downstairs when you're ready." Dez turned to go, and Mel saw the flowers in his hand.

Mel had never changed so quickly in her life. Cozette was saying something – her tone sounded bright and calm – but Mel couldn't hear her over the roaring in her ears. It wasn't like they'd been caught making out (gulp). Why did she feel so …guilty?

Dez was standing in the nearly empty parking lot with his back to the studio when she exited. He turned around at the sound of her approach. His face made Mel feel even worse.

"I didn't think you were coming," Mel said lamely. "I didn't see you in the audience."

"You knew I was your ride home, though. Whatever. What were you doing with her? That's Corette, right?"

"Cozette. We were just…she was just…it was nothing."

"Yeah, sure."

"I was stiff after the performance. My shoulder, I mean. It was just a massage!" Mel could hear herself pleading.

"Uh huh. Like we didn't watch _Pulp Fiction_ last weekend."

"That was feet. And a guy and a girl, not –"

"So? I saw your face." His expression hardened. "She's your math tutor. Of course. No wonder you care so much about school all of a sudden."

"What? That's not fair! I was almost failing before she started helping!"

"Helping. Right." He snorted.

"Dez – "

Of course, using the poetic timing she was born with, this was the moment Cozette chose to exit the studio. Mel shut her mouth instantly and Dez visibly tensed. Cozette waved to them as she headed over to her mo-ped. "Bye, guys! Great show, Mel! See you on Tuesday!" She rode away, her hair streaming behind her like the girl in those T-Mobile commercials. They watched her go.

Finally, Dez spoke again. "At least you have good taste in chicks. She could be in movies."

"But I –"

"Just shut up for a second." He hesitated, and Mel chewed her lower lip nervously. "Mel, you know I'm crazy about you! When we're not hanging out, I spend half the time thinking about how pretty you are and the other half trying to figure out ways to make you laugh. Shit, the Ultimate guys make fun of me because I talk about you pretty much always." He ran a hand through his hair. "I mean, I never felt like this about a girl before. When you finally agreed to go out with me, it was, like, like getting the chance to play basketball one-on-one with Kobe."

"Oh, Dez…"

"Do you even realize how long it took me to get brave enough to ask you out? I always knew there was something special about you. Maybe it was because you never took any of Charlie's shit, I dunno. I know you don't feel the same. Not as strong, anyway. But before at least, I hoped…I thought I had a chance of changing your mind."

Dez thrust the flowers at her. Mel thought there might be tears in his eyes, but she wasn't sure, because she was starting to cry herself. He kept talking: "You know why I was late today? I was trying to find a florist that was open on Sunday. I had to drive halfway to Monterey. I didn't want to just get you roses from the supermarket." Mel looked closely at the bouquet for the first time. The green tissue paper was wrapped around three or four different kinds of flowers with small white buds. "They were the closest thing I could find to edelweiss. From _The Sound of Music_. Because you were dressed as Brigitta at the movie truck last spring. That was the day I knew you were the girl I wanted more than anything." Mel hadn't thought her heart could sink any further, but it was suddenly digging a hole through the pavement, on its way to China.

"I knew things were weird lately. I thought it was because of school stuff and ballet. I was hoping after the recital we would hang out more and you could relax. I felt awful that I couldn't be there more for you. I wish I'd known you weren't even, like, thinking about me. If I hadn't walked in just now, would you have even fucking noticed if I didn't show up?"

Mel swallowed hard. "Dez, I'm really, really sorry. I'm an idiot. A selfish jerk. But Cozette and I are just friends, I swear. She doesn't know that I –" Mel slapped a hand to her mouth in horror.

"Know that you what?" Dez stared at her. "C'mon, say it, Mel. We both know what you mean." Her throat was suddenly clogged. Blood rushed to her head so fast she thought she might explode. Her stomach went cold and her hands started to sweat. Were there little birds twittering somewhere nearby? "Fine, you weren't cheating on me. Not technically. Maybe Miss Perfect Hollywood Ballerina is totally innocent here. But _you_ wanted to. You wanted – you want to be dating her, not me."

"Dez, please. I –" Mel hung her head. "Fine," she whispered. "You're right. I've been … been crushing on her for a while. Since before she started tutoring me in math. After you and me started going out."

Dez let out an ugly laugh. "And all your ballet snob friends know, right? I bet you all laugh about me behind my back. I'm not stupid, I know what that Torres girl thinks of me."

"What? No!" But it was true that they all used to make fun of Dez before she'd agreed to go out with him, and Mel had never exactly told Sasha to cut it out with the insults. Mostly because confronting her was usually like facing down a tiger. "They – they can be a little harsh sometimes. I shouldn'tve let them say some stuff. But they know I care about you. That you're sweet and helpful. And, um, hot."

"Not the right kind of hot, though. I'm never going to be _that_ kind of hot. So it doesn't matter about the flowers and the rides and the hooking up. Which I thought you fucking _liked_."

"I did! I did," Mel protested. "Dez, my friends don't know, I swear. Cozette doesn't know. Nobody does. I mean, I was pretending that I didn't know. I didn't want to know. I was hoping I was wrong. If you hadn't – "

"If I hadn't _what_? Interrupted your goddamn massage fantasy? Got my heart stomped all over? So you could figure your shit out? Well, glad I could be of service. Call me anytime." Dez stormed over to his car, tried to unlock the door with shaking hands, dropped his keys, and swore violently. Worse than Charlie, which was seriously a skill. All those zombie kills were good for something.

Mel ran to the car door. "Dez, are we – what happens now?"

He glared up at her and started the engine. "What the fuck do you think? We break up. You go off with that chick and star in some lame-ass Bravo movie. Get _her_ to give you a ride home. Now it's her job. Move, will you? I have to go get really fucking drunk." Dez backed out of his parking space and drove away, tires squealing.

Mel sank to her knees, dropping the flowers. The world had gone fuzzy through her tears. She couldn't figure out which was worse: admitting the truth or the look on Dez's face. Everything hurt. She couldn't tell if she was physically shaking or not. Now she couldn't lie to herself anymore. Dez knew, and she knew. He was an amazing boyfriend, but she didn't want a boyfriend. She'd never really wanted one. She hadn't wanted a _girl_friend, exactly, but that was probably because she'd never met the right girl. And then Cozette moved to town.

Oh god, how could she face Cozette on Tuesday for tutoring? Or ever again? Mel wanted to disappear into the ground. The wind suddenly changed direction and she could smell the flowers. Dez had gotten her edelweiss. He'd remembered that from _over a year ago_. She was a piece of crap, a waste of space. A horrible girlfriend and a worse person. She would never be good enough for him. She couldn't be the romantic dream date he wanted for prom, wanted more than Mel ever had. The tiny voice – the only part of her brain not reeling – suddenly pointed out that now she didn't have to find a prom dress, didn't have to worry about what was going to happen at the after-party. _Shut up_, she told herself fiercely. _I'd have figured it out. I'd have made it all work – if I weren't so pathetic._

Mel sat in the parking lot and cried bitterly. Eventually, Deborah's mom drove her home.

_Monday afternoon_

Mel slouched on her bed with _Into the Wild _open before her. She couldn't concentrate on the night's reading. Who gave a crap about what some dumb dude might have done in Alaska? Alaska was a million miles away. She was in pain right here, right now. Her parents had been surprised she hadn't wanted to go out for a _Copp__él__ia_ celebration dinner yesterday, but she'd begged off, claiming homework. She hadn't gotten any work done over the weekend because of the performances, so they bought it. Dad had even hugged her, saying he was proud of how responsible she'd gotten. That he _knew_ she would make it to UCLA with Charlie. That had only made her think of Dez, of course, so it was all she could do to keep from crying until she got to her room.

School today was the worst. She'd dragged herself through the hallways like some loser zombie. If she had had the energy to care, Mel could have been annoyed that none of her friends had picked up that anything was wrong. But Sasha and Roman had had some sort of fight yesterday too, and Ginny was freaking out about her upcoming dress rehearsals, and Boo's mom actually did have a false labor scare last night. So Mel's zombieness had been unnoticed. (And safe.) Besides, what could she say? That she'd been spending months fantasizing about a girl while dating one of the cutest guys in Paradise? And to make it worse, it wasn't just any girl, it was Cozette. Ginny was going to _flip out_ when she found out. If she found out. Maybe Mel didn't have to tell anyone about the Cozette part. Cozette didn't know, and Dez wouldn't tell anyone, right? It probably hurt his pride. If she had liked another guy…

There was a loud slam downstairs as someone came in from outside. Angry footsteps were pounding up the stairs. _Oh, shit_. Of course Charlie knew. He and Dez had been basically inseparable since Dez's family moved here years ago. God, would Dez have told him _everything_?

Charlie burst into her bedroom and threw his backpack at her. Mel didn't think she'd ever seen him so angry before. He came over and hit her hard in the arm. "What the _shit_ is wrong with you, you little turd? What the _fuck_ did you do to make him break up with you? That guy has been mooning over your pathetic ass _forever_. I had to listen to him go on about you every goddamn day for, like, two years! There is no way he dumped you for some stupid girl thing. You must be actually retarded."

Mel cowered against her bed's headboard, and Charlie punched her again, in the gut. It hurt a lot, but she was already hurting, what difference did it make. "So did you cheat on him? You better not have fucking cheated on him. You were lucky Dez even paid attention to you. Did you know that like six girls on the Frisbee team would have slept with him on the spot if he'd asked? If he'd even looked at them? But no, it was always you, you moron. You shitstain."

For once in her life, Melanie had no insults to respond with. Or any defense, really. She _had_ cheated on Dez, emotionally. She was an awful human being and deserved to be beaten up. Dez wouldn't yell at her like this, so somebody had to. Charlie was defending his best friend like the Bro Code demanded. "Jesus Christ, what's the matter with you? You're not even yelling back?"

Mel's eyes started welling up. At this rate, her tear ducts would break from overuse. "I know I'm an asshole. It's my fault." But Charlie didn't know about Cozette. _He didn't know_. Dez had given her – or maybe himself – that much privacy.

"Of course it is, you little – "

"Charlie, I'm sorry. _I'm sorry._ I fucked up. I ruined everything. I know that. Believe me, I know. And I can't fix it. I can't take it back. I can't –" She burst into angry, ugly sobs.

Charlie didn't say anything for a minute. Mel looked up at him in surprise through her tears and saw the same look on his face. He looked like, well, like she had actually hit him, only more confused. Mel hadn't cried in front of Charlie since she was eight and he'd kicked over the Lego fantasy doll house she had been building with Ginny. She kept gulping. She couldn't stop. Finally Charlie stopped staring at her and unclenched his fists. "Whatever. I don't fucking get girls. And don't you even _think_ about asking me for rides. Or going anywhere near him. Not 'til he's ready to hear your sorry ass grovel."

Charlie picked up his bag and left, slamming the door behind him. Mel threw herself across the bed and sobbed harder. She was going to dissolve into a puddle and disappear. That would be good. Anything would be better than this.

_Tuesday lunch_

Everything continued to suck. Dinner last night was horrible, full of Charlie's glares and angry muttering. Her parents had assumed it was another dumb fight over nothing and had talked at Melanie _forever_ about college visits this summer. She just stared over their heads at the black-and-white family portrait hanging on the wall, taken at a professional studio in Las Virtudes when she was six and Charlie was seven. They were friends then. If only she could wish herself back into that picture, like in Blue's Clues. Kid Melanie was fun and never bored or unhappy or confused or a jerk girlfriend to an amazing guy…

This morning, Charlie had purposely left the house so early that their mom had to drive Mel to school on her way to the office, talking 30 miles an hour on her cell phone but only driving at 15 miles per hour. Mel got there midway through second period. Too scared to face Cozette for lunch tutoring, she sent her a text ten minutes beforehand to cancel and then ran to the cafeteria to sit with her friends and their boyfriends.

They were clearly surprised to see her. "Hey, Mel," Ginny said. "It's Tuesday, right? Don't you have tutoring with Cozette?"

Mel didn't respond, just sat down and took out her lunch. There was an awkward silence. Then Carl ventured, "So, uh, how's Dez?" Mel burst into tears. Again. It was super embarrassing, but she couldn't help it.

The other three girls looked at each other, and then turned to the boys. "Beat it!" Sasha said, and gave Roman a shove. He got up immediately and decamped for the basketball team's table.

"Oh no – I'm so sorry!" Carl stammered. "Mel, I didn't mean – "

"Not now! Just go!" hissed Boo. Her boyfriend nodded and disappeared as well. Ginny switched chairs to sit next to Mel and grabbed her hands. That was sweet, but it meant she couldn't wipe the mix of tears and snot that was flowing down her face. Gross. Boo kept pulling tissues out of her bag. They waited for Mel to explain.

But she couldn't. She _couldn't._ The best she could do was to hiccup over and over and stammer, "It's my fault, it's my fault. It's not him; it's all my fault!"

"It is _not_ your fault, that boy is an oaf. A cretin," Sasha muttered. "I knew he wasn't smart enough for you."

"You're too good for him!" Ginny said.

"I'm _not!" _Melanie wailed. "I'm not, I'm terrible, he didn't deserve me…" She was a mess, and probably all the other tables were staring. Thank God the Frisbee team ate lunch over by the gym.

Finally, Sasha said, "What do you have next period, US History? Skip it. We'll all ditch class – cramps – and meet out on the back lawn." Boo and Ginny nodded.

"Thank you," Mel whispered.

"Shut up," Sasha said. "Like we'd let you face Linehan like this."

7th period was spent lying on the grass out behind the baseball field. Sasha jacked up the volume on her iPhone as loud as it would go and they ran through her playlists – admittedly short on break-up songs, but that was OK. Mel stared up at the sky and emptied her brain. She thought about movies and dumb TV shows. Didn't think about Dez. Didn't think about how the other girls would recoil if they knew what was wrong with her. She was perverted. She was the worst. It definitely wasn't normal. She was not normal…then again, Abby and Sam didn't care about being normal. Cozette didn't care. Neil Patrick Harris was gay, and everyone loved him. So was Anderson Cooper. And, like, half of the rest of the people on television, if you believed Sarah McGovern, who hosted the Bible study that her Grandpa used to go to. So did that make it OK?

Probably not. Those famous people didn't live in her town. No one like that lived in Paradise. Hollywood was glamorous, but it was full of crazies and perverts, everyone knew that. So that didn't help at all. Plus Cozette wasn't from here and everyone loved her and nobody knew about modeling camp and it didn't matter because she could leave for one of her fabulous cities with rich friends and go be amazing and make out with girls and give them great massages somewhere else. And bi was different anyway. No one would have to know if Cozette just dated guys until she left town. Mel was stuck here and she didn't like guys – not enough to count, anyway – and it was hopeless. She was going to flunk school and not get into college and end up working at the Mini-Mart and be known as the weird freak outcast forever. Probably she would have to cut all her hair off and wear plaid and quit ballet and play sports. Wait, she already played derby. Did that turn her….different?

No. No it didn't. She hadn't liked boys a lot longer than she'd been skating for the Las Virtudes team. Mel never cared much about the guys in school, not enough to want to flirt with them or make out with them or marry them. She'd definitely thought some guy celebrities were cute: like, Zac Efron was pretty dreamy, but you could only talk about his eyes and his smile for so long. Were there any girl celebrities she'd been in love with? Not really. Not that she could remember right now. If it hadn't been for Dez…

"Um, Mel? The bell just rang. Are you….do you need us to sit with you some more?" Boo was sitting up, looking concerned.

"Oh, what?" Mel's brain felt foggy.

"We'll sit her with as long as she needs!" Sasha said.

"It's just, we have a presentation in English tomorrow and I really need to meet with Tyrone and Max…"

"Boo!" Ginny hissed.

"No, it's fine," Mel said. She sat up and brushed her hair out of her eyes. She had stopped crying, at least. "I'm OK. I'm going to stay out here. But you should go, really."

"Are you sure? Because I can ask them to come over to my house tonight."

"Go," Mel said firmly. "Please."

They all hugged her and left. She lay back down and watched the sky some more. It was weird to remember that even though it looked like the clouds were moving, it was really the planet that was spinning slowly. Yeah, the wind might be pushing them (if they moved fast), but mostly the clouds stood still as the world changed around them. Mel felt as insubstantial and pointless as a cloud. She was wispy and fragile and lost while everything else moved out of her reach.

_Tuesday afternoon._

Mel blinked and looked around. Somehow she was standing in front of the Oyster Bar. The outside picnic tables were empty. It must be past the lunch crowd and before the post- school afternoon hangout. Wait, what time was it? Mel checked her phone. 15 minutes until school got out. At some point she had gotten sick of clouds and gotten up and started walking. And here she was. Thank god there wasn't ballet today. She didn't have the discipline to pay attention. And probably by cutting class she had just screwed over her grades for the week. Whatever.

Mel slid down the side of the building. Suddenly she was hungry. She had forgotten to eat all day. Had she put her lunch back in her backpack? She couldn't remember. Mel opened it to find a note sitting on top of her binders, frowned and pulled it out. It was in Sasha's handwriting; she must have slipped it in while Mel was zombie-ing again. The note had a phone number and said above it – _call her. She's nuts but she listens_. Mel didn't recognize the number.

_Who…?_ Oh, Michelle. Of course. Sasha had never really talked about it, but the other girls knew she'd spent a couple of nights in Madame Fanny's guesthouse when everything was awful, pre-move. And Ginny had said Michelle gave great audition advice. Maybe she could teach Mel how to play the role of being different. Michelle definitely knew about being a weirdo in Paradise. Maybe she knew how to be normal, too.

Mel took a deep breath and called her former dance teacher's cell phone. It rang four times before Michelle picked up.

"Hello? If this is Steve Only-Two-Shots-I-Swear, _no thank you_. Not again. I left your vest on the stairwell. You can take your – "

"Michelle. Michelle! It's Melanie."

"Wha? Who?" Was she hungover again?

"Melanie Se—"

"Oh, _Mel_! Uh, sorry about that. Take it from me: never trust a Columbus man with diamond cufflinks."

"OK…" How the heck did Sasha get helpful advice from her? How did you interrupt Michelle to say what you needed?

"So, kiddo, how's life in Nirvana-Town? My mother-in-law still driving you all insane? I hear your _Copp__él__ia_ was killer."

"Yeah, it was good. Um, I had a question."

"Shoot."

"I, uh… well, I was dating this guy..."

"Uh oh. It was that big dude, right? He was eyeing you up like Ross on Rachel before I left."

"Yeah, Dez." Mel swallowed. Tears were the enemy now, this was hard enough. "He…we broke up this weekend. It was my fault…"

"Oh no! Been there. Did you steal too many of his undershirts? They hate that. Especially if you borrow the cologne too, the fancy kind that smells like – "

"No, not that…well, he's really great but I like someone else and he found out and it was really bad." Mel said, all in a rush.

Michelle didn't say anything for a minute. Then: "That sucks. That really sucks. OK. Did you actually cheat on him? Or were you just making sexy-eyes at this other guy at the wrong moment?"

"Well…sort of in the middle. I mean, I didn't actually do anything. But I wanted to. The other person doesn't know. But it was after the ballet, we were upstairs and I didn't-"

"Ballet? Fanny's ballet? Uh oh. You're not into Tim, are you? Because he and Genevieve seemed pretty serious, last time I was there. Artie? It can't be Artie, he's like 12. You're no cradle-robber. Oh, I hope it's not Jordan! Sweetie, I know he's an incredible dancer and not too shabby looking for a teenager, but I'm pretty sure that guy would rather make out with lambswool than an actual female…."

Mel couldn't help laughing in spite of everything. "No, no! Not Jordan, god. Um…it's not any of them."

"Really? I'm running out of dudes here."

"It's…it's not a guy. It's a girl."

"Oh. _Oh_." There was another pause. "Well, listen, are you sure? Sure that this is a dealbreaker, I mean. With your boyfriend. Because sometimes when you're young and pretty hormonal you can get really wrapped up in loving a friend: a really intense friendship-crush, but, you know, that doesn't necessarily mean you're into women. Only women. In junior high I was in love with Lisa Harris for a year, but I grew out of it. Sometimes this is just a phase. I definitely like my penises now."

"I…I don't think this is just a phase. I kind of wish it were. But I think…I think I just like girls. I always knew, sort of. I wasn't sure. But now I'm sure."

"OK. Well." Michelle sighed and it sounded like something fell to the ground next to her. "Whoops! I hope that wasn't expensive. Anyway, then ignore everything I just said about a phase. Some straight girls have phases but if this isn't a phase then it just isn't. Yeah, I'm definitely gonna have to super glue it together, there's no way this piece will stick." There were weird noises in the background. "So you're a friend of Ellen, huh? Somehow I don't think It Gets Better is that popular in Paradise."

"What's that?"

"Exactly. Um….I don't know much about how to do this, really. You should probably Google Dan Savage. But it's going to be all right. This is tough. Really tough. But you can handle this. If you can do a _sissonne_, you can do this. It just takes…you know, practice to get used to it. Like any new dance step. Practice saying to yourself every morning that you are becoming a new, amazing person. Even if you don't know who she looks like yet. You will. She'll be amazing."

"Really?" Mel whispered.

"Really. Can you tell me who you like? It's tough if it's one of your best friends, I hear."

"No, no it's not." That would be _awful_. "It's Cozette."

Michelle whistled. "Good choice, Melanie! That girl's got serious style. And the gams on her; I know a stumpy Rockette who would kill for them. Listen, so here's what you do–" There was a loud banging sound on her end. "Oh, crap. Crap crap crap. How is it five o'clock already? Mel, I'm sorry, I'm understudying the lead tonight – I have to go – call me next weeeeeek!" And Michelle was gone.

Mel stared at her phone. At least Michelle didn't think she was a perverted loser. Who was Dan Savage? She wasn't sure she could just Google stuff about this: what if someone saw her web history? Oh god, Mom would hit the ceiling if she knew. It was bad enough that Mel didn't like shopping. Dad wouldn't say anything, he would just frown. And quietly disapprove. Which was almost worse. Michelle had been about to give her some advice on how to win over Cozette? Yeah, right. Even if Mel somehow managed to be chill enough around the other girl, enough to ask her out – ha, that was a truly hilarious joke – there was no way they could actually date. They'd have to hide from everyone, and look what happened to Romeo and Juliet. Or Juliet and….were there any other girls in that play? Beside the nurse? All Mel remembered from the Leo DiCaprio version was a lot of gangs, and the scene with the fish tank. Not that there would be gangs attacking them. But it wouldn't be good.

Nothing was good. It was all awful.

Suddenly Jeff Tobey was standing in front of her. "Excuse me, Melanie. But you're blocking the most direct pathway between the outside seating area and the kitchen door. That interrupts the wait staff flow for maximum possible service. Would you please sit at one of our tables instead of on the ground? And are you going to actually order food today?" Blah blah blah blah. Did this geek ever listen to the crap that came out of his mouth? Mel felt bad for his future classmates at Harvard. "You can't stay here; you're in violation of the fire code. And if you're not going to eat, then you should leave. Go call your jock boyfriend and make him drive you home already!"

Blood roared in Melanie's ears and she couldn't see straight. But instead of crying all over Jeff, she stood up without warning and elbowed him in the throat. That was a major foul in roller derby; the team would be pissed at her. Jeff fell back against the nearest picnic table, gasping. Some moms with strollers had just arrived and they were all pointing and whispering. Well, they'd whisper more when they found out the truth. Mel stared at the ground, adrenaline draining. It looked like the Hulk was back, only meaner and sadder. And this time there was no derby to fix it.


	7. Ch 6: rather waste my life pretending

**It's been three weeks since I last updated, so here's the finished section of Chapter 6. Some missing scenes will be added in later. Watch this space!**

**Most high school Ultimate Frisbee teams are not co-ed, but let's agree to pretend that Paradise has its own rules. Or that the team is intramural, or something.**

**Finally, Dez uses an ableist slur in this chapter that I obviously do not condone.**

Chapter 6: rather waste my life pretending

_Thursday lunch_

Mel entered the library for trig tutoring with some serious nerves. She had emailed Cozette the night before to let her know about breaking up with Dez – because if she asked about him during their session, Mel was sure that she'd burst into tears, or into flame, or some other form of total humiliation. Cozette had responded with several links to videos of laughing babies and pets falling down the stairs, as well as an invitation to call her if Mel wanted to talk. Of course Mel was too chicken to do that – and what could she say, anyway? _We broke up because of you? Because I can't stop thinking about your hair or your smile or your hands or the way you crinkle your nose when you laugh?_ Yeah, that was totally not happening.

By staring straight down at the textbook for most of the lunch period, Mel was able to avoid staring or blurting out anything weird. Cozette tried a few times to bring up non-math stuff, but Mel ignored it. Besides, this unit was pretty confusing. Tutoring was much less fun this way, but she was still learning. That was what mattered, right? Mel might be – _different_ – but that didn't mean she had to ruin a good tutoring gig or make Cozette get caught up in all her stupid drama. Being friends with the other girl just hurt too much. It was better to be study partners.

When the bell rang, Mel packed up her stuff so quickly she was done in less than a minute. They still hadn't actually made eye contact yet and Mel was about to exit the room when Cozette reached out and touched her wrist.

"Hey, are you OK? Is something going on?"

Mel's mind went blank. "Uh – no – uh – I'm fine." _I will not throw up; I will not throw up…_

"All right. Can I ask you something?" Mel managed to nod. "So, um, the jazz band regionals are next weekend. In Napa Valley." Mel nodded again. She could start a new career as a mime. "I won't be able to study with you during lunch next week because we'll be rehearsing. I'm really sorry; I know this section is tough for you."

"OK," Mel said, feeling guilty to be so relieved. "I mean, that's too bad…"

"Do you want to get together this Saturday? I have the house to myself so you could invite Boo and Sasha and Ginny over and we could all hang out. Maybe a Katherine Hepburn movie marathon?"

That sounded really fun but also kind of impossible, given that Mel could barely stand to graph functions next to Cozette. Maybe her friends would make a good buffer for them? And, like, Cozette needed more friends. But Ginny would probably be too jealous of Cozette's house, and she was busy with play rehearsals anyway. Plus Sasha was visiting her dad this weekend. "Um, I don't think so. I probably have to visit my granddad. Family, you know?" That wasn't totally a lie. Mel hadn't spent much time with him lately. "Maybe, uh, Genevieve or Rae-Rae are free?"

"Oh. Rae-Rae said she's busy with _Bells are Ringing _this week. She's doing costumes." Cozette shrugged, and a few strands of hair fell over her face. "Don't worry, it's no big deal. Maybe some other time."

"Yeah." Mel cast around for another subject so she wouldn't have to commit to any hang-outs. "Uh. Can either of your parents make it for regionals?"

"No, they're both overseas…but Anne-Britt said she can probably get off work. Hey, I get two tickets for guests – maybe you could come?"

"No!" Mel blurted out, before she could stop herself. Cozette looked really hurt. _Oh, shit_. "No, I mean…I can't, I'm really sorry."

Cozette turned away. "OK. Good luck on your next quiz." She started to walk off.

Mel's everything hurt. What had she done? How had she managed to screw up even the small talk? "Wait – Cozette! I – well, maybe I could ask Charlie to drive me up…"

"Forget it, Melanie. You don't have to do me any favors. See you later." Cozette's dark hair rippled around her shoulders as she left. She was beautiful and untouchable and Mel was a huge asshole.

_Monday morning_

Mel spent gym class sitting on the bleachers. The wood smelled gross and was pretty uncomfortable, but it was better than actually playing volleyball. Thank God for Madame Fanny's eternal get-out-of-gym-free-because-ballet-card! She was really glad she didn't have to get sweaty and change in the locker room with all the other girls. While Mel was twisting a lock of hair and counting down the minutes to trig (who'd have thought she could actually miss math?), Kelly Greer came over. Kelly was a senior and captain of the girls' volleyball team, so it was seriously unfair to play against her in gym. She was tough – tons of muscles – but still kind of hot, with lots of long blonde hair and stuff. Kelly was subbing out after scoring six kills in 15 minutes because it had gotten cruel to the other team.

"What's up, Melanie?"

"Hi, Kelly. Not much." They'd never talked much before. Why she coming over now? Suddenly Mel remembered Kelly also played Ultimate Frisbee. She hoped the panic didn't show on her face.

Kelly flopped down next to Mel and wiped the sweat off of her forehead. "Are you doing OK?"

"Because of Dez, you mean?" It still felt weird to say his name out loud. But she had to do it.

"Uh huh. I heard that…well, I don't know what happened exactly. But it can't be easy to break up with such a good guy, whatever the reason."

"Is he…how is he?" Charlie wouldn't answer even if she asked, and Dez had defriended her on Facebook.

Kelly looked at her for a long moment. "I don't know if I should tell you, Mel. Dez is one of my closest friends, you know? We've been playing pick-up Ultimate since before Paradise had a real team."

Mel wondered if Kelly was one of those girls that Charlie meant, who would have slept with Dez if he'd wanted. She didn't really know much of the senior class gossip, but Kelly didn't seem like the kind of girl who would just sleep with any guy. Not like Stacia, or Kelsey Higgins. So if she'd actually liked Dez, it would have been serious. Boy, did Mel suck. Dez deserved to go out with a hot jock girl like Kelly. Not an awkward miserable loser like her. He'd been wasting his time.

"It was my fault." Mel said. "I wasn't…he liked me more than I liked him." Why was she telling Kelly this? But it felt good to say it to someone. Someone who actually cared about Dez, unlike her friends. "A lot more."

"Yeah, I kind of guessed that, to be honest."

"Really?"

"Uh huh. It was the way he was talking about you. I mean, he'd always talked about you; it was kind of a joke that Dez was in love with his best friend's little sister. But then when you guys started dating it was like, NONSTOP Mel time." Kelly laughed. Mel couldn't. "He never told us the details or anything, but it seemed like something happened in the last few weeks. Like before that ballet show you did? He started staying late at practice a whole lot more, and didn't, like, gush as much. I didn't want to pry, you know? But sometimes a girl can tell."

The last few weeks? Well, Mel had started studying more with Cozette lately, and hanging out with her on the weekends a bunch too. They'd done their English homework together and some history stuff and watched _So You Think You Can Dance_ reruns and made lots of gooey cookie recipes and…oh jeez. She really had been ignoring Dez, huh? Goofing around with Cozette had been so easy and fun that Mel hadn't noticed how little time she was spending with her actual boyfriend. She was the _worst!_

"I'm the worst," Mel mumbled. This was so embarrassing.

Kelly clapped a hand on her shoulder. "No, dude, don't think like that! I mean, I don't know, maybe you _are_ terrible. But if you and Dez weren't meant to be, then don't beat yourself up over it. You were only dating for like, what, five months?"

"Four."

"Yeah, that's not that long! I know he was hung up on you forever, but that's not really your fault. Pretty girls can't help being pretty." Kelly laughed again – she had a really friendly laugh – and elbowed Mel in the ribs. Mel flushed.

Pretty? She wasn't pretty. Tall and thin, yeah. But not pretty like Stacia or Tessa Nelson or Cozette. Also, Kelly didn't sound like she was in love with Dez. Maybe Charlie had been wrong? Maybe none of the girls on the Ultimate team were in love with him?

"Yo, Greer! Get back here! Next game's starting!" One of the other seniors was shouting at them from the court. Mel couldn't tell who it was.

Kelly stood up. "Don't worry so much, Mel! School's almost over, maybe you'll meet a cute boy at the pool or something. Dez'll get over you eventually. He's got to go to Occidental in the fall anyway."

"Thanks, Kelly. Really."

"No big. I watch a lot of Oprah whenever we don't have practice." She laughed a third time. It would be nice to be friends with someone who was so happy all the time.

"GREER! STOP TALKING TO THAT LAME JUNIOR AND GET YOUR BUTT OVER HERE."

Jenna Foster, who was also on the Frisbee team, was coming off of the court to sub out for Kelly. She and Kelly did some sort of jock-handshake-hug, and then she sat down on the bleachers a few rows up from Mel and knocked over her water bottle. Mel reached down to get it. "Here."

Jenna took it from her with a glare. Mel shrunk back. "You're Melanie Segal, right?"

"Yes?"

Jenna snorted. "We better not lose the tournament this Friday because of you." She turned her back on Mel and began texting someone.

So much for that temporary good mood. Mel tried to think of Kelly's laughter, but it had vanished into the air.

[SCENE WITH GINNY, THURSDAY AFTERNOON AT GINNY'S HOUSE]

_Saturday night_

If someone asked, you could split the Paradise High social scene pretty evenly into two groups: jocks and artists. Yeah, some people did both things and there were smaller cliques for each sport or talent, but that was basically the main difference. Tonight Ryan Donovan was having a kegger for the lacrosse team, so all the jocks and their groupies were there, including Charlie and the Frisbee team. Everyone else who wasn't a complete loser was here in Tyrone Fredericks' basement for the drama club's cast party. Mel had to admit it was a pretty good party. Naturally you could trust Tyrone to over-prepare music, food, and drinks, and plus his house was really nice. No cast party ever had alcohol for the first few hours, since Mrs. Murkowski always showed up to coo over her drama darlings and "chaperone". But she had left a long time ago, and all the important bottles had been brought out from the linen closet. Tyrone's parents seemed pretty chill with all of this; he hosted most of the theater parties.

Mel slouched to one side of the room on some tastefully decorative throw pillows and underneath some twinkling white Christmas-y lights. She was totally not in the mood for dancing or drinking tonight. She didn't even want to be here all, but she had to support her best friend. _Bells are Ringing_ had turned out all right despite Ginny's worries, even if a bunch of high schoolers could never be as good as the original movie. Of course Ginny had been fabulous. The chorus had come in late on only one song number, and the spot light operator had managed to make his cues after intermission. Probably Kyle and the other lighting guys had yelled at him.

Speaking of Kyle, he seemed to be following Ginny around tonight. Everywhere she went, he was there, getting her drinks or holding her stuff when she went to the bathroom. Mel would have told him to piss off by now, but Ginny didn't seem to mind. She kept not only smiling at the dude but even talking to him! _Weird_.

"So you think he's gonna actually ask Ginny out now? I mean, the show's over; it's time for him to shit or get off the pot." Rae-Rae sat down on the pillow next to Mel.

"Who? Kyle?" Mel turned to look at the black girl in confusion.

"Duh, obviously Kyle. That's, like, the worst kept secret in Thespians; we all had bets on when Ginny would finally notice." Rae-Rae rolled her eyes, laughing.

"But what about Frankie? Ginny's been obsessed with him forever. Plus he's, you know, the local sex god. I mean, look at him." Not that Melanie could actually look at Frankie, since he wasn't there. Cozette had posted on Facebook yesterday that she and Frankie were going to St. Helena for the weekend on their way to jazz band regionals. Her status had gotten 50 likes in under half an hour, along with several requests for pictures.

"Oh, Frankie's _fine_, all right. But can you imagine actually dating him? It would be like dating Taylor Lautner or something. Too much groupie jealousy! Ew. If I were Ginny, I'd take the skinny white dude in front of me. I know Kyle's kind of weird, but he's loyal. And pretty sweet, when you get to know him."

"Ginny's loyal too. She wouldn't just switch guys like that," Mel said. But now she was remembering that Ginny hadn't talked about Frankie as much in the last few weeks. And if she were genuinely upset about him ignoring her, then all of her friends would know. Ginny never ever hid how she was feeling; it was like the best and worst thing about her. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if she dated an emo/goth dude or whatever. It wasn't like Frankie or Charlie had been so nice to Ginny, and it had been almost a year since she broke up with Josh.

Rae-Rae shrugged. "If you say so. She definitely seems to like hanging out with him, though. Anyway, where's your man tonight?"

Mel swallowed. "Um, Dez and I broke up after _Copp__é__lia_." That was getting easier to say. It was true and it wasn't so bad not to date a guy you weren't that into, like Kelly had said. No one had to know about her crush on Cozette. Mel would just keep that part to herself until it went away. It _would _go away, right? And then things could go back to the way they were. Simple. And easy.

"Oooh, sorry. I guess I've been so busy with all the costumes that I hadn't heard the latest. You doing OK?" Rae-Rae rested her hand on Mel's shoulder inquisitively.

"Yeah, thanks. He's great, just…we just weren't right for each other." They weren't. That was OK.

"Well, in that case, can I have him? Dez's a cutie, if you like 'em big."

"Uh, I guess so." Mel grinned. "I mean, you've only got the summer before he leaves for college, but you could give it a shot. Just wear your gold eye shadow. And he likes wavy hair."

"Good to know! Man, that eye shadow's amazing, right? My Nana brought it for me last time she came up to visit from Atlanta."

"Yeah, you looked hot at New Year's." Mel caught her breath, but Rae-Rae didn't look weirded out. It was OK to tell other girls stuff like that. It was normal.

"Girl, I'm _always_ hot!"

"Hey, Rae-Rae!" One of the other sophomores was shouting from over by the Fredericks' humongous sound system. "You're up! Come pick the next playlist!"

"Later, Melanie!" Rae-Rae stood up and walked away.

Mel stood up too and wandered slowly over to the food table. She wasn't really hungry, but it was better than sitting by herself like a loser. Rae-Rae had chosen One Direction, and half the room was singing along. Tyrone was strutting and tossing his hair in front of a lot of giggling freshman girls. He looked perfect for a boy band music video. Ginny was talking to some of Kyle's creepy stage crew friends, the ones who were all dressed in black and looming over by the staircase. If they started going out, would Mel have to eat lunch with those guys? She poured herself some spiked punch and looked around for less disturbing people. Of course Boo and Carl would be _slow dancing_ to pop music. What dorks. Genevieve and Tim were sucking face on top of the pillows Mel had abandoned. Sasha and Roman were –

"Getting an early start on liver damage, Mel?" Sasha had sidled up behind her."

"It's only my first cup! Where's Roman?"

Sasha dismissed her boyfriend with a casual wave. "He was being too clingy lately, so I made him go slum with the jocks. Maybe if a cheerleader flirts with him tonight he'll stop asking when he can come visit me at Joffrey this summer."

"Did you get it again for sure? I thought they don't make the decision until June." Sasha just looked at her. "I mean, of course you're going! Forget I said anything," Mel said hastily.

Sasha ladled out her own cup. "This party is better solo, anyway. Now I don't have to make the ceramics club listen to Roman talk about Nietzsche. How are you doing? Still moping over Tall and Thick? I mean, _Dez_." Sasha took a sip of her drink and made a face. "Ugh, did Tyrone seriously put gin in a citrus-based punch? Not rum? Clearly he didn't read Martha's latest blog post on acceptable mixers for casual affairs."

"Martha does mixers?"

"Martha does everything. And don't change the subject. You know I think that boy is as dumb as rocks, but he was making you happy. You've been so pathetic this week, Boo could sub you in for Eeyore in her baby-sitting puppet shows."

"I dunno. I mean, he was great. Really great – "

"Well, then go talk to him and apologize for whatever you did! He can't have gotten over you that quickly. Now's your chance."

"What?" Mel spun around. It was true – Dez had just come down the stairs, his favorite brown bomber jacket under his arms. Why was he here? Mel _definitely_ wouldn't have come if she'd suspected this would happen. Shouldn't he be at the kegger with Charlie and Alex and all those bros? "What should I –"

Sasha seized Mel's cup and placed it on the drinks table. "Just go over to him, brainless." The bossiest girl in Paradise shoved Melanie towards her ex. Mel stumbled on the shaggy blue carpet – it's not like she had done 13 years of ballet or anything – and landed in front of Dez just as the latest song ended.

"Whoa, hey." Dez reached out and grabbed Mel by the upper arms to steady her. She looked up at him (he was, like, the only guy in Paradise taller than her) and just for a second felt the old butterflies. Dez was as handsome as ever. Maybe she _should_ say something? If Mel could just get over Cozette, then they could still have three months together before the fall, three more months of being just like everyone else.

But now Dez was letting go now and frowning slightly. He didn't exactly seem like he had forgotten what had happened. "Don't worry about me interrupting anything. I'm not interested in your _Glee_ parties, I'm just here to pick up Rachel."

"Rachel?" Mel blinked. "What's your sister doing here?"

"She was in the chorus. And her curfew is 11:30, so I'm her ride."

"Oh. Um, why didn't she just get one of her friends to do it? Or their parents? I mean, aren't you missing the lacrosse party?"

"I didn't exactly feel like partying, so whatever. It's fine, I'm pretty used to driving girls around all the time." Mel winced. "So, are you and Colette together now?" Dez was staring over her shoulder, as if he couldn't handle making eye contact with her.

Mel's mouth went dry. Had anyone heard him say that? _Oh god._ "No! I mean, I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not, there's no one…" She was stammering like an idiot.

Dez snorted. He grabbed her arm again and pulled her into an empty corner. Mel looked around wildly, but no one was paying them any attention. Well, except Sasha, who was smirking from across the room. There was no way she had heard. Mel was safe.

"Are you guys hiding it? I guess Paradise hasn't had any big scandals lately. You two being gay could make Kelsey Higgins's year if she knew."

That was exactly what Mel was afraid of. "We're not – we're not hiding anything. We're not anything. We're not a couple."

"Why not? You're hot, even if you are a spaz and confusing as hell." Dez was glaring at the floor now, which took away from the compliment somewhat. Mel had never been insulted and flattered at the same time before.

"Well, Cozette – I mean, she's perfect, what would she need with me?"

"So she rejected you. That's stupid."

"No! I don't know. I didn't say anything to her. I mean, she has no idea…"

"What do your bitchy little girlfriends think? They all have enough lousy opinions to fill Wikipedia."

Wow, she never knew Dez could be so _mean_. Guess Charlie had rubbed off on him after all. "Um, they don't know either."

Dez looked straight at her for the first time, eyebrows raised. "Wait, are you saying you still haven't told anybody that you like chicks?"

"Shut up! Please!" Mel hissed. But still no one was listening. Macklemore was playing loud enough to drown out any conversations on the sidelines.

"Jesus, Mel. Why the hell are you hiding it?"

"I just – it's fine, no one needs to know – I'll get over her and it'll be fine." Mel twisted one of her bracelets around her wrist. "Just please don't tell people. I mean, I know you haven't told Charlie or Kelly or anyone and I really, really appreciate it. Just – promise me –"

"Uh, I don't owe you shit, Melanie. But I'll keep your secret, even if you're being really stupid. Seemed like that girl liked hanging out with you all those weekends you were too busy for me. And she sure liked feeling you up after your show." Mel couldn't respond. "Anyway, I don't think people get over being gay just because some bitch is too stuck-up to date them. You should tell at least your friends."

"I can't." Mel whispered. "They'd be grossed out. It's too weird. I just have to forget about Cozette and it'll be OK."

"Well, that's retarded." Dez shook his head in disbelief. "Whatever. But I thought you guys were all best friends forever or some girly shit like that. Aren't they supposed to have your back on this? Isn't that what they're for?"

Before Mel could answer – what _could_ she answer? – Rachel came up to them. Her cheeks were flushed from dancing (or maybe that was leftover blush). Anyway, unlike Mel and her older brother, she had clearly been having an awesome time. "Dez? It's 11:45. Mom will flip."

"Yeah, OK. Got your coat?" Dez pushed past Mel.

"It's upstairs. And thanks for picking me up. You're the _best_." Rachel glared at Mel and the siblings walked away. Great, now even freshmen hated her.

Mel slid down against the wall to the ground. There were no pillows over here, and the carpet wasn't as soft as it looked. Her heartbeat was echoing in her ears, along with all of Dez's insults. Of course she had no shot at getting back with him – why had she listened to Sasha? At least he wasn't going to tell anyone about her.

Should she really tell the others? What if they hated her? What if Ginny flipped out and Boo started quoting the Bible (she _was_ Lutheran) and Sasha got all sarcastic? Mel couldn't bear to lose her friends, not when everything else in her life was so awful.

"Looks like you blew it with the Caveman." Sasha was standing over her, holding out a new cup. "Here, I made you a screwdriver. It's freshly squeezed orange juice and some non-gross vodka. Apparently Tyrone's parents were hiding the expensive stuff behind the cleaning supplies."

Mel took the drink and gulped the whole thing down in one shot. It burned a little in her throat. She wasn't really used to drinks that weren't beer.

"Forget about that loser and come dance with me, Mel. I got Rae-Rae to put on some Rihanna." Sasha reached out her hand and pulled Mel up, using all the hidden strength inside her skinny little body.

This party had sucked for hours already. She should just get drunk and put off all the upsetting stuff for tomorrow. It was fine. Nobody needed to know anything. She was fine. This would pass. It would all be fine. And Mel almost believed herself, too.

[SUNDAY, SEGAL HOUSE, TELEPHONE W/ M]


	8. a brief interlude in c

**Chapter Seven has stalled these last few weeks as my life got busy; it will probably not be available until early June. (Sorry!) I never intended to write from Cozette's perspective because I think of Music/Mirror as Mel's story, but I thought I'd post this to give my loyal readers something while you wait. (Let's pretend that C and F are fraternal twins, at least for this section.) ****come hang out and talk Bunheads on tumblr, check my profile for my user name. I'm always up for chatting about fan fic or feminist media while I work on this epic. And remember, reviews are love. ;)**

* * *

EDIT: 5/23/13:

The interlude here has been reposted as its own file. I'm still working on the missing scenes from Chapter 6 (as well as Chapter 7), so while you're waiting:

We _still_haven't heard if Bunheads will get a second season, so please please please take the time to contact ABCFamily and tell them how much you miss this show!

I suggest either tweeting #savebunheads or going here and writing them an email: . abcfamily DOT go DOT com/feedback. (links don't work here, apparently.)

The second option is only supposed to be for US residents, but I know plenty of you are from overseas - I can see the stats - so please consider picking a US zipcode to write them! Or seek out whatever method works in your country.

Don't lose hope yet, folks. Chuck and Community got more seasons because of fan interest. Futurama and Arrested Development were brought back after cancellaton because of fan interest. And Firefly wasn't renewed, but it did get a movie out of it later.

Sutton just got nominated for her work as Michelle for a Critic's Choice Award. WE CAN SAVE THIS SHOW.


End file.
